


I Remain at Your Side

by Billy_Zane



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Conflict, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Heartbreak, Jealousy, Romance, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, resolved conflict
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:42:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23853265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Billy_Zane/pseuds/Billy_Zane
Summary: Natasha Hawke has an intensely arousing dream about her friend Fenris, leaving her hot and bothered. Now she can't stop thinking about him in a non-platonic way, hoping that maybe he could feel the same. Little does she know that Fenris has already been completely enamored with her for quite some time, but of course he would never in a million years dream that she would want him too.
Relationships: Fenris/Female Hawke, Fenris/Female Mage Hawke
Comments: 11
Kudos: 69





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm currently writing a Dragon Age Inquisition fic about a romance between Cullen & Female Mage Trevelyan. As I introduce my Hawke into that story, I found myself wanting to write about her and her relationship with Fenris. I have my own head cannon about the characters of Dragon Age 2 that will influence that fic and I figured why not write that story too? Female Hawke and Fenris are two of my all time favorite characters in the Dragon Age universe and I have a lot of gaps I want to fill in on their romantic relationship. I love how complicated their characters are as they develop and the passion that consumes the two of them when together. I have a feeling this will be a lengthy story and I intend to update regularly--lord knows I have the time being sheltered in place due to Covid-19. It's going to be somewhat of a slow burn (or hot and cold), but I promise it will be worth the wait :) So here we are! I would love any feedback you'd be willing to give. I hope you enjoy this fic :)

She finds herself in a familiar place, though uncertain of how she got there. Everything in the large abandoned manor feels slightly different, yet somehow still the same. She is wandering through halls with a sense of urgency, heart racing, but she doesn’t know what she is looking for. Then he calls out to her.

“Natasha.”

The way he says her names sends chills down her spine, but in the best way possible. Now she knows why she is here—and as if somehow by the mere acknowledgement of it, suddenly she is standing right there in his room. He is in front of the fireplace, standing with his back to her while watching the large flames burn. She has been in this room many times before, spent hours exchanging conversation over several bottles of wine. Sometimes they would just sit in silence together, a quiet understanding between the two of them that did not require words. But in this moment, she felt like she was experiencing this room from a perspective previously unavailable to her. Every detail was exactly the same, yet it was like they were in another dimension.

“I was hoping you’d come,” he confesses, still not turning around to face her. “I have been waiting for quite some time.”

“I’m just glad I could find you,” she begins. “I felt lost at first, but now I know I’m where I’m supposed to be.”

“You know I’m always here,” he says, then takes a swig from the bottle he is holding.

She feels nervous for some reason, and her knees wobble a bit as she starts to approach. He is only 10 feet away, but it seems to take forever to be close enough to touch him. She stands behind him and reaches out her hand to place on his shoulder. The second she does, he vanishes.

“Natasha,” he whispers. This time she hears it, feels it even, right in her left ear. It sparks something within her and immediately she feels his hands touch her sides. She shivers, but is beginning to feel very warm. His lips press against her neck and he murmurs her name again. She lets out a groan and he kisses her neck harder, his hands roaming about her torso freely.

She whips around to face him, wrapping her arms around his neck. His green eyes fix on her intensely. There is a hunger in them. He bites his lower lip, looking at her like she is about to be devoured. His shirt is off and all he is wearing are his leather breaches. His lyrium markings are glowing and she nearly gasps because his body is so beautiful. She slowly reaches out to touch his chest and he immediately grabs her wrist, holding it tightly, still holding her gaze.

“Fenris, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—“

He silences her by crushing his lips against hers, kissing her harder and deeper than she has ever been kissed before. He grabs her other wrist and pushes her against the wall, holding both wrists above her head. She moans into his mouth, kissing him back with hunger and desire. 

_How long has she wanted him so badly?_

He bites her lip, then slips his tongue into her mouth, gently encircling hers while continuing to kiss her. While one hand continues to hold her wrists above her, the other slides underneath her shirt, grasping firmly at her breast. His thumb gently rubs against her nipple and it makes her feel tingles throughout her body.

“I want you, Natasha,” he whispers in her ear, which would almost tickle if she wasn’t so aroused already. 

“Then _take_ me, Fenris,” she gasps. “Please, right now. I cannot wait any longer.”

He smirks at her, looking quite pleased with her request. Then he lifts her up, carrying her across the room while kissing her. Her legs wrap around his torso and he easily pulls off her shirt, tossing it to the floor. He drops her onto his bed and is immediately on top of her. They keep up the pace for a long while and pretty soon they are both entirely naked. She is certain this has never happened before but can’t shake this odd feeling of deja vu. Never mind, right now she only wants _one_ thing and she knows it’s only seconds away from happening.

He sits back on his knees and places a hand on her chest, urging her to remain laying down. They are both out of breath and sweat glistens on their skin in the light of the fire. She reaches out to grasp his hardened cock and he shivers at her touch.

“Fenris, _please_. I want you inside me,” she begs.

“Not _yet_ ,” he says firmly.

“But—“ she tries to sit up, and he gently pushes her back down.

“Hush,” he commands sternly, but with a smirk forming in his lips. “ _First_ , I am hungry.”

She furrows her eyebrows together, confused at his declaration. Surely he can wait a few more moments before treating himself to a snack. She even feels a little offended, as if her naked and willing body splayed out before him is not enough to keep his attention.

In a quick motion he grabs onto her legs, gently pushing them apart as he begins to lean down, his face inching closer and closer between them.

Realization slowly falls over her and it makes her blush. “Oh Fenris, you really don’t have to…” 

_But Maker does she want him to._

He looks up at her from between her legs, the smirk still on his face. “I told you I was hungry, Natasha,” he growls. “And I intend to have a _feast_.”

She lets out a surprised gasp as he buries his face between her legs. She moans in pleasure as he kisses, licks, and sucks. He seems to know exactly what he’s doing and her toes curl involuntarily. 

“Oh Fenris,” she moans.

He groans against her in response, causing a rather stimulating vibration.

As the pace picks up she is closer and closer to completely unraveling.

_Yes, that’s it. Right there. That’s the spot. Keep doing that. Please, Maker yes. So close, so very close…Oh Maker, please. Almost there, it’s going to happen…HOLY—_

She shoots up in bed, heart racing and covered in a sweat. The space between her legs is warm and throbbing. 

_What in the actual fuck?_

Disappointment hits her in an instant as she looks around the familiar room in Gamlen’s house, the light just beginning to peak through the corners of the small, boarded up window. She is definitely not in Fenris’s manor, and as if to add confirmation, she hears her brother Carver snoring in his cot across the room from her. 

_Ah yes, reality._

She lets out a frustrated groan, punching her blankets and laying back down. She stares at the ceiling for awhile, waiting for the leftover tension to fade way. If this had to be a dream, why couldn’t she at l _east_ finish the last 30 seconds. She only wanted to _finish_. 

_Curse the Maker._

It was certainly a surprising dream. It wasn’t common for Hawke to have super vivid and erotic dreams, but that wasn’t what surprised her the most— it was the object of her desire. Fenris, her friend and faithful companion of the last year or so. The two of them had become somewhat close, which was saying something when it came to the broody elf who preferred to keep most aspects of his life private. He got along okay with the majority of their companions (definitely NOT Anders), but no one had spent even a fraction of the time with him that he and Hawke had spent together. Despite her being a mage, he seemed to feel safe with her and often extended her the invitation to help raid the cellar in his manor. The two would spend time chatting (or arguing) and drinking by his fire, and other times would sit in quiet. Hawke also clashed with Fenris at times. While they agreed on many things, the things they did not were pretty big. His views on magic could anger her and at times even hurt her. He respected her, but she wished he could start to see other mages the way he saw her. It seemed that she was his only exception and even at times she could sense a hesitance in him that she feared was in regards to her own magic.

While Hawke and Fenris had good thing going in the friendship department, she hadn’t consciously considered anything romantic between the two of them before. She was definitely attracted to him and their playful banter often entered a flirtatious territory, but Hawke was a relentless flirt when it came to most people. Knowing what she did about Ferris’s background, she simply assumed he was unavailable and didn’t give it much more thought. But then out of the blue she has this dream. This very _hot_ dream, and in her dream she wanted him more than anyone before and it felt completely natural. 

_It’s just a dream, get ahold of yourself._

She just couldn’t seem to shake it right now. It would probably fade away as she went about the day, but right now Hawke couldn’t help herself from thinking about her friend in an entirely different way. Though she tried not to, she found herself wondering if he had or ever would think of _her_ in that way.

_Be careful Hawke, don’t want to start pining._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Family drama, flirtatious banter, and some modest blushing :)

As Hawke walked up the steps to Gamlen’s house in Lowtown, she could hear what sounded like a very heated argument between her mother and uncle. She had left early that morning to get to the market before the rush. In her time working for Athenril she had formed many connections with people all over Kirkwall, some more beneficial than others. One of particular help was a market vendor named Garreth. He was also from Ferelden, which immediately formed some sort of kinship between the two of them. They had an arrangement where she would come early in the morning and he would give her some eggs, cheese, and other things that came in from the nearest farms. In exchange, Hawke and Carver helped him smuggle in certain goods past the city guards when the opportunity arose. Side jobs like that were highly necessary when it came to putting food on the table since all their work for Athenril went to pay off their debt.

“It’s that fucking estate again,” she sighs, feeling annoyed. Leandra and Gamlen argued about this several times over the past year, nothing ever getting remotely close to resolved. She didn’t hold much stock in her uncle’s recollection of events, but then again none of them were actually there. Did they truly have the right to contest it? According to Leandra, _yes,_ they absolutely did. Hawke saw her point, but couldn’t help but feeling like her mother was clinging too tightly to the past. They came to Kirkwall to start over when things weren’t safe for them in Ferelden but it seemed like her mother only wanted to resume her former life as a noblewoman of status, living in Hightown as an Amell. Sure, that would certainly make life easier here—Hawke was no fan of Lowtown or living with their uncle Gamlen either. Hawke also loved Ferelden and saw the idea of living as nobles in the Amell Estate as a slap in the face to her father’s legacy. She had jumped at the opportunity to partner in Bartrand’s expedition to the Deep Roads so she could get their mother set up in a better living situation, then she’d finally be free to choose something for her own life—maybe even go home to Ferelden. But as always, nothing she did was ever quite good enough for her mother. 

She pushes open the door and bumps into Gamlen, who is rushing out in a huff.

“Sorry, Uncle,” she offers.

He ignores her, pushing past and heading for what she assumes is The Blooming Rose, his second home. Her Mabari, Fergus, excitedly jumps all over her, tail and tongue happily wagging. “Hello, sweet boy! You’re just who I wanted to see!”

“Good morning to you too, sister,” Carver says flatly, taking a sip of water.

She sets the bags of goods down on the table and leans down to pet Fergus. He licks all over her face and Carver rolls his eyes. “As if being Father’s favorite wasn’t enough, our darling dog dotes on you every chance he gets.”

“Jealous much?” Hawke quips, giving Fergus gentle belly rubs. “It’s not like he pays you no mind, brother.”

“Oh he does, just not when _you’re_ around. Quite familiar, huh?”

She groans. “Glad you were able to find something to argue about this morning. When the sun was up and you hadn’t leveled any complaints in my direction yet, I was growing a tad worried.”

“It’s always something with you two,” Leandra sighs as she starts rifling through the sack of produce on the table. “It’s a shame Bethany isn’t here to balance things out. She always made such a lovely peacemaker.”

“It was nice having a sister who didn’t demand I live in her shadow. Instead we got to share it,” Carver jabs, staring crossly at Hawke.

“You know I love all of my children, darling,” Leandra says, reaching out to touch Carver’s face affectionately. “And _you_ are my sweet, special boy.”

Carver smiles haughtily, rising from his seat. “Oh I have always known that _you_ love me, Mother.”

“I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and try to assume you’re _not_ implying you think Father loved Beth and me more,” she glares at him. 

Carver bursts out laughing, “I don’t _think_ that, sister. I _know_ it. Don’t pretend to be naive, you know it too.”

“Enough of this,” Leandra frowns. “ I have something I need to discuss with the two of you.”

_Mother’s “sweet, special boy” is also rather fragile._

“What is it, Mother?” Carver places a hand on her shoulder, looking concerned. “Is everything alright?”

“I don’t believe everything has been _alright_ for quite some time now, but never mind,” she scoffs, waving her hand. “The problem at hand is in regards to your grandfather’s Will.”

“Has that _not_ been the problem at hand since we arrived at this slum?” She asks, with a hint of sarcasm in her tone.

“Natasha, please,” Leandra narrows her eyes at Hawke. “Your uncle and I had a discussion this morning regarding the family estate and I think we finally have a promising lead.”

_“Discussion”. Is that what we’re calling it now?_

_“_ Gamlen finally told me the location of my father’s will,” Leandra says excitedly. “He claims that it’s still in the Amell estate vault. I think if we are somehow able to access it we could make a case for ourselves before the Viscount. I _know_ my father, no matter how angry he was when I left Kirkwall with Malcolm, he still loved me. He wouldn’t have left me absolutely _nothing_. That’s just what Gamlen wants me to think.”

“Alright. Assuming that his Will actually proves this, how are we to even get to it in the first place?” Carver asks.

“That’s where I was hoping you two would be able to help,” Leandra confesses, giving Hawke a pleading look. “There is an underground passage that leads to the estate, it was part of the wine cellar.”

“Sound easy enough,” Hawke muses. “What’s the catch?”

Leandra gulps. “The entrance to the passage is in the undercity—Darktown. It’s very dangerous there and Gamlen says there are probably squatters in the cellar. You will need to be prepared if you agree to do this for us.”

_Us. More like her._

“I’ve been through Darktown several times, it’s not like we haven’t faced plenty of foes here in Kirkwall,” she states flatly. “We’ll do it. Just let me talk to Varric first so we can establish a strategy.”

“Thanks for consulting with me, sister,” Carver says sarcastically, folding his arms across his chest.

“Would you prefer to stay here and twiddle your thumbs?” Hawke asks pointedly. “I’m sure Aveline would be more than happy to go in your place. She always knows how to get the job done."  


At that Carver slams his glass of water down on the table and storms past her, slamming the door when he leaves for dramatic affect.

“Reminds me of someone,” Hawke muses. “Ah yes, our dearest uncle.”

“Natasha, you really ought to be more kind to your brother,” Leandra chastises. “You know that he’s always been very sensitive. 

“You’re one to talk. I seem to recall a particular shouting match in the wee hours of the morning in which Uncle Gamlen left the house in the exact same manner,” Hawke says, raising her eyebrows.

“That’s different,” Leandra sighs. “ _Your_ brother didn’t gamble away the family fortune and try to convince you that your family didn’t love you enough to leave anything behind for you and your children.”

“Well, you certainly didn’t seem to miss them much in the 20 years we spent in Ferelden,” she remarks.

“There wasn’t a day that went by that I didn’t think of my mother and father,” Leandra glares. “We had our differences and I was hurt and angry for a long time, but even still I loved them and wished it could have been different. One of my biggest regrets is that they never got to meet you and the twins.”

“Something I’m glad I never had to endure. Don’t fool yourself, Mother. We all know how they felt about magic. Beth and I would have been a complete and utter disappointment to them,” Hawke says bitterly. 

Leandra shakes her head. “They would have loved you girls. It would have been different once they saw you, their _grandchildren_. They would have come around but I never gave them a chance.”

“Maybe,” Hawke concedes, “but I guess we’ll never get to find out. I will try to take care of this matter for you, though. I hope the result brings you some sort of closure at the very least.”

* * *

Varric Tethras is sitting at his desk, fingers drumming on the surface, nursing a mug of ale as he flips through a decent sized stack of papers. A pair of hands suddenly cover his eyes and he is hit with a pleasant scent of lavender and jasmine. 

“Guess who?”

“If I have guess…” he starts, “Sister Petrice?”

Hawke scoffs and gives him a playful nudge before pecking him on the cheek. 

“Hilarious.”

“What can I say? I’m somewhat of a comedian.”

Hawke rolls her eyes as she sits down across from him, propping her feet up on the desk. 

“So…” Varric begins, pushing some papers aside, “what can I for you, Nat?”

“Can’t I just being paying my favorite darling dwarf a friendly visit?” Hawke pouts.

“You flatter me,”Varric chuckles, leaning back in his chair. “But you forget how well I know you. I see that twinkle in your eye, do you need this stealthy rogue of a dwarf to assist you in something illegal?”

“If I did, _you_ would be the first I’d come to,” Hawke smirks, “but as tempting as the offer is, my current task is more a family business thing. Think you could get us into a private passageway in Darktown? I need to get access to the vault in the old family estate.”

“I’m a sucker for some family drama,” Varric quips, then takes a gulp of ale. “And of course— I’d imagine quite easily. But we’ll probably want to bring a few others along if we are planning on raiding an abandoned estate.”

“And here I was hoping I had a good excuse for us to be alone together,” she flirts, fluttering here eyes at him dramatically.

“You never need an excuse for that, beautiful,” he jokes, winking at her.

“Well if you two are planning to bump uglies, don’t forget to invite me.”

Isabela enters the room, plopping herself down on the desk, making a pout.

“If we end up doing that—'bumping uglies', you’re more than welcome to… _participate_ ,” Hawke smirks, glancing over at Varric who is shaking his head.

“You know, at first I was just joking but this is actually starting to sound like one hell of a time,” Varric muses.

“I doubt you’d be able handle _two_ of us,” Isabela scoffs. “Inexperienced.”

“Don’t insult me, Rivaini. I’m no Chantry boy.”

“You know...I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to ride a _dwarf_ ,” Isabela says thoughtfully.

“I’m honestly surprised you haven’t ridden one before,” Hawke shakes her head.

“Ride what?”

The three of them turn at the familiar voice to the tall figure in the doorway.

“Hawke and I are just planning out the mechanics of our impending threesome with Varric,” Isabella says casually, winking at Fenris.

Hawke’s face turns bright red when Fenris's eyes meet hers.

Fenris gulps, “the three of you are going to…”

“Could make it a foursome, _if_ you’re game,” Isabela offers, licking her lips.

Fenris just stands there, eyes wide and looking very uncomfortable.

“She’s only kidding!” Hawke kicks Isabela. “Per usual, Isabela got rather carried away.”

“Don’t worry, even if she _wasn’t_ kidding I would draw that line at you, Broody,” Varric chuckles. “No offense.”

“But I wasn’t…HEY!”

Hawke kicks Isabela again, this time harder. 

Fenris clears his throat, “I um…was looking for you Hawke, there’s something I wanted to discuss.”

The memory of her dream from the night before begins to creep in her head and she finds herself feeling self conscious despite the fact that no one else knows about it. She has always found Fenris attractive, but today his mere presence is making her a little flustered.

_Is her face still red?_

“Looking for _me_ , oh?” She stammers awkwardly. “Um, sure. What is it?”

Varric looks at her, eyebrows creeping together. 

_What?_

“You are clearly preoccupied. It’s nothing urgent, another time,” he says, waving a hand.

“Wanna help us ransack Nat’s family estate vault tomorrow?” Varric offers.

Fenris looks at Hawke and she smiles with a shrug, aware of Varric studying her again.

“I don’t have any plans,” he says, “sure—count me in.”


	3. Chapter 3

Fenris settles into a chair near his fireplace, opening a bottle of wine he had sitting around. Hawke should be coming by soon to talk and he finds himself thinking about their encounter earlier in Varric’s room at the Hanged Man. He and Hawke were just friends, but the idea of her having… _relations_ with Varric and Isabela upset him. He was hit with strong relief when Hawke insisted they were only joking. It made sense, Isabela was always propositioning their friends and making sexual innuendos. He probably should have realized it was a joke right away, but instead his heart had dropped to his stomach for a split second. But it wasn’t his place to have any concern, Hawke was free to do whatever she wanted, and she would probably be angry if she knew how jealous he was at the thought of her with someone else. 

_Else. As if contrary to him._

Though he hadn’t given it much thought before, Hawke very well may _already_ be enjoying that kind of company with others. Why wouldn’t she? She was a beautiful woman full of charm, wit and intelligence. She lit up every room she walked into and could easily get the whole crowd eating out of the palm of her hand. He had only known Hawke for the better part of 9 months and she already had him wrapped around her finger, though it was likely she had no idea. She wasn’t the type of woman who did this on purpose, she was kind and had a heart of gold—not one to take advantage. Hawke was oblivious to the effect she had on others, too humble to take a long look in the mirror and see what everyone else saw—what Fenris saw. Just to be her friend—to reside in her presence and enjoy her company—was more than he ever deserved. It was obscene that he even had the nerve to pine for more, to grow jealous over her, to yearn…

“Penny for your thoughts?” Hawke asks, slipping quietly into the chair next to him.

He straightens up quickly, startled by her entrance. “Goodness, woman. How did you manage to get all the way up here undetected? I didn’t even hear the door open.”

She grins, reaching for the bottle in his hand. “Magic!”

He rolls his eyes, “very funny.”

“You were so transfixed on the fire—deep in thought, that an _elephant_ could have passed by unnoticed,” she smirks, sipping from the bottle of wine.

He shakes his head, “I must have gotten lost for a moment.”

She eyes him curiously, leaning closer. “What’s on your mind, Fen?”

“I can’t even remember,” he lies, “it was like everything went blank.”

“Is this the _second_ bottle?” She jokes, holding it up.

“It’s good to see you. I hope everything is well with your family,” he says, changing the subject.

She shifts in her seat, eyebrows furrowing. “Well, not much has changed there. Still at each other’s throats about something or another. I’m hoping getting ahold of this supposed Will in the estate vault will help provide some resolve between my mother and Gamlen.”

“I’m sorry things aren’t exactly civil at your home,” Fenris sympathizes.

“Just means I’m more eager to spend my time with you,” she smirks, lifting the bottle. “Cheers, my friend.”

In the light of the fire, every feature of her face is illuminated before him—her piercing blue eyes that are ever-so-slightly slanted, high and sharp cheekbones, and plump rosy lips. Her long, silky hair hangs over one shoulder, black as night—a striking contrast to her smooth skin, pale as the moon. He wished he could reach out his hand and run his fingers through it, twirl it around his hand and bury his face into it, capturing the scent of her. Just the thought of it makes him feel slightly aroused, much to his surprise.

“You’re staring,” she accuses, narrowing her eyes, “what’s the matter, do I look out of sorts?”

“No, you look lovely,” he blurts, “I mean— I was just…uh, your _hair_ is much longer than I’d realized.”  
  
She grabs a strand, twisting it around her finger. “I suppose it’s seldom I wear it down anymore,” she sighs, “I know long hair is less efficient for what I do, but I just can’t bring myself to cut it. I’ve always kept it long, since I was a young girl. It’s the only feature I have that could be considered… _pretty_.”

_Was she kidding?_

He wants to shake her and tell her how breathtakingly gorgeous she is until she finally believes it. Instead he tries to contain his composure.

“You don’t think you’re pretty?”

“Maker no,” she chuckles, shaking her head. “I’m aware that some men have found me attractive—perhaps _adequate_ would be the better word, but it’s likely only in regards to my body. There are certain… _assets_ most men become fixated on when they’re looking for that one thing. Let’s just say they don’t want to gaze into your eyes.”

_She truly believes that she’s not beautiful._

Fenris is beginning to feel angry at the mere implication of her lacking beauty, even if the implication was coming from her.

His hands grip the arms of the chair tightly. “That’s a load of rubbish,” he growls, “I don’t know who in the Maker’s name convinced you of such madness, but I will not tolerate it.”

Hawke shoots him a look of confusion, “what are you talking about? Did I offend you?”

“Yes,” he says flatly, then shakes his head,“ I mean—you…you’ve got it all wrong. I sincerely hope this is not what believe about yourself.”

Hawke says nothing, looking down in her lap. Fenris then moves in his chair to face her more directly.

“You say you’re not pretty, and you’re right in that you’re not _just_ pretty,” he begins, looking at her intensely. “ _Pretty_ is a flower in a garden in Hightown; a bluebird perching on a branch. _Pretty_ is Isabela and some of the girls that flock around that prince from Starkhaven, desperate for his attention.”

Hawke is now staring back at him, listening intently.

“ _You_ , you are so much more,” he blurts. “You are like the ocean, a sunset over the sea. A cloudless starry night. All the things that take your breath away. The best things about both dark _and_ bright.”

He is aware of her eyes fixated on him and feels self conscious. He isn’t usually this vulnerable, even with her.

_But she needs to know this._

He tightens his grip on the arms of the chair and shakes his head. “Maker’s breath, Natasha. You are so inexplicably _beautiful_ , it absolutely pains me to hear you say otherwise.”

“Fenris,” she says his name softly and it makes his chest warm. “You truly believe all that?”

He looks up at her and instantly notices that her eyes have welled up with tears.

“Natasha, I didn’t mean to make you cry,” he apologizes with concern.

She smiles and takes a breath, shaking her head. “You haven’t upset me. It’s just that—“

“It’s just what?” He asks, inching a bit closer to her.

“No one has ever said anything like that to me before,” she says softly,“yet I can tell you believe that’s all true. It almost makes me believe it too. Makes me want to at least.”

He wants to place his hand on hers, trace the light blue veins that run down her forearm to wrist. He wants to cup her chin in hand, pull her face to his and find out what those lovely rose colored lips taste like. He would pull her into his lap, tangling his fingers in her hair and explore the cavern of her mouth with tongue. He would try to start out gentle, but it would be impossible to maintain once his hands were on her. Fueled by the fire burning inside him, he would show her just how beautiful he thinks she is. She would feel it her bones, in the ache between her legs, see it in his eyes as she opened for him. He would not stop until she unravelled before him, his name on her lips, _pleading_. He would gnaw at her neck, leaving a trail of marks along her throat—then again, on her lip, until he tasted a hint of her blood. It would be love at first bite. 

He quickly readjusts in his chair to hide the not-so-subtle erection that formed in the last 15 seconds.

“You should, it’s the truth,” he replies, hoping she hasn’t noticed the stiffness he is trying to hide. “I’m not the only one who thinks this, you’re just unaware of the effect you have on others. I see the way people look at you.”

“Is that so?” She laughs softly, leaning back in her chair.

He shrugs, “just something I notice.”

“And just _who_ exactly happens to be looking at me in the way that you mean?” She asks smirking, appearing amused.

“Most people, but if you’re asking for specifics? Anders,” he says with a hint of disgust. He despises that man. “ Isabela—naturally. Varric even. Your _priest._ And ironically, most of the templars we’ve encountered.”

She bursts out laughing, spitting out a bit of wine in the process, then hands the bottle back to him. “Are you mad, Fenris? You seem to think half of Kirkwall wants to bed me.”

“I mean…they probably do. Wouldn’t be surprised. But I guess I can only speak to what I’ve seen, and like I said, there are plenty of people who are captivated by you, Hawke,” he says matter of factly, taking a large gulp of wine.

She shakes her head, not saying anything, but grins at him.

Several moments pass without either of them saying anything. Usually he is comfortable with the silence, but right now he feels exposed, having just confessed to her how insanely attractive he thinks she is. Fearing she’ll read into it and reject him, he is compelled to change the subject.

“So um, you’re probably wondering what I want to talk to you about,” he clears his throat.

“I almost forgot there was something else on the agenda,” she smiles.

“It’s nothing big. I was just wondering about the Deep Roads expedition—do you think you and Varric will be ready soon?”

“Funny you ask because I was just going over details with him a couple days ago. If everything goes as planned, we will be ready to leave about a month from now. Hopefully we can manage to scrounge up a bit more coin before then.”

Fenris nods seriously, looking into the fire. “Have you…given much thought to who you’ll be taking with you?”

“That’s been up for debate,” she laughs, shaking her head, “particularly in regards to my brother.”

“Is Carver unwilling to help you?” He frowns.

“On the contrary. He is insisting to come with, but my mother is in stitches over it. Doesn’t want to lose _both_ of her children,” she says, shaking her head. “I suppose it’s perfectly acceptable for her eldest to risk her life fighting darkspawn—so long as I bring back a fortune for the family—but _not_ her precious Carver.”

“Has it always been that way with her?”

“Sort of? But mostly after my sister died,” she says soberly, staring at the fire. “They were twins, you know? Her babies. I think she sees a part of Bethany when she looks at him. She has lost a lot—first my father, our home, and then Beth. I suppose I can see why she clings to Carver now. It would destroy her if something happened to him.”

“ _You_ have lost a lot too,” he points out, taking a sip of wine.

“It’s difficult to find the time to grieve when you’re the one responsible for so much of it.”

“I thought your sister was killed by an ogre on the way to Kirkwall?” Fenris frowns, brows furrowing together.

“She was. But I failed to save her,” Hawke shakes her head. “If I had put myself between them before she attacked it…had the forethought to cast a protection shield—she should still be here.”

“It’s not your fault, Hawke. Don’t torture yourself. You have no idea if any of that would have even worked,” he says sternly, staring at her. “Or maybe if it had, then _you_ wouldn’t be here.”

“Better me than her. I know Mother thinks it, I can see it in her eyes every time she looks at me.”

“No,” he growls, “the past is the past, you cannot change it. It was _not_ your time yet.”

“Well, maybe I’ll meet my end soon enough on this treacherous expedition,” she says with a hint of cynicism in her voice.

“I will not allow it,” he argues.

She raises her eyebrows at him, but says nothing.

“I want you to take me with you,” he blurts. “That’s what I’ve been meaning to discuss. I hope you will consider it.”

“You would want to go down into the Deep Roads with us?” She asks, sounding surprised.

“I am not afraid of darkspawn—or _Bartrand_. Besides, you could use the help. It would be unwise to venture into such a place without the proper companions,” he explains.

“You’re not wrong,” she admits. “Varric says we must select our group carefully, as we cannot take a whole army down there. A strong warrior like yourself would certainly bolster our party.”

She smiles at him and reaches for the bottle in his hand.

“Why not? Come with us!”

“Then you have my sword,” he says sternly.

“And what an _honor_ that is, Fenris,” she grins, lifting the bottle in the air before taking a swig. “Plus, I’ll be happy to have your company.”

Her last sentence makes him blush, but she doesn’t seem to notice. He is simply relieved she isn’t going on that dangerous expedition without him. She is no novice when it comes to facing enemies and highly skilled in her use of magic—but still, it’s comforting to know he will be there to protect her. He cannot stand the idea of anything happening to her.

_Thank the Maker._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Lord Byron for his poem "She Walks in Beauty". It inspired a few things Fenris said in regards to Hawke's beauty :)


	4. Chapter 4

The raid of the estate vault was easier than Hawke anticipated, with only a minimal amount of enemies to take down. Varric was right about it being easy to access and they slipped in without much trouble. While it wasn’t a big surprised that Gamlen had lied about the stipulations in the Will, she was a bit surprised that her mother’s father had actually left the estate to her. All she had heard her entire life was that Grandfather Amell was furious with her mother for running off to marry her father, whom he believed was not even close to being good enough for his noble daughter. The fact that Malcolm was a mage only intensified his rage and for the 20 plus years that followed, the Hawke family may as well have been dead to him. Naturally, her mother was thrilled to find out her parents did not die angry with her. Despite Gamlen having already lost the estate due to his ever-increasing debt, Leandra seemed to believe there was still a chance to get it back. Now that she had a legal document proving it was rightfully hers, her case before the Viscount would be that much stronger. 

“Don’t get too excited,” Carver says to Leandra, a couple days after the raid. “Just because you have this piece of paper to wave at the Viscount doesn’t mean he is going to give some _nobody_ living in Lowtown the time of day.”

“But that’s just it, this _piece of paper_ proves that I’m not some nobody, but the rightful heir to the Amell Estate—a woman of noble blood,” Leandra says optimistically.

“I don’t understand why that’s so important to you,” he shakes his head, “this hasn’t been your home for over 20 years. Father’s body wasn’t even cold yet and you were already dreaming of returning to your old life.”

“Carver!” She scolds. “Your father wouldn’t have approved of you showing me such disrespect.”  


“He sure didn’t seem to approve of much else,” he says bitterly, “what else is new?”

“Leave Father out of this,” Hawke interrupts, “look, we’re here in Kirkwall now, the Blight is over, and each of us will have to decide what our next move is.”

Leandra looks at Hawke, puzzled. “What do you mean _each of us_ will have to decide? The plan was always for us to stay together as a family and reclaim the Amell Estate.”

“No Mother, that was always _your_ plan,” Carver says flatly, “Natasha and I are both adults now. We are free to do what we choose. Maybe not all of us want to play nobles in Hightown.”

“You mean to tell me that the two of you aren’t planning to stay here in Kirkwall with me?” Leandra gasps, looking on the verge of tears.

“No one said that, Mother,” Hawke offers comfortingly, “I think there’s still a lot up in the air, that’s all.”

Carver shrugs, “I’m not making any promises. For the time being Kirkwall is home, but I have to consider my options.”

“What options?” Hawke asks, eyeing him curiously.

“Thanks for having so much faith in me, sister,” he rolls his eyes. “I might return to Ferelden, get in touch with who’s left of the army. I’m sure King Alistair could always use another solider for his forces, and I have experience. I’ve also considered joining the Templar Order, it’s been in the back of my mind for quite awhile, actually…”

Hawke is silent, feeling stunned at the mention of him becoming a templar.

“I don’t like either of those options, Carver,” Leandra shakes her head, “please, stay with our family—for my sake. I cannot bear losing you in either of those ways. I need my son.”

Hawke is now staring at Carver, but he refuses to look her in the eye. 

“It’s just a consideration. Like I said, I’m not making any promises either way,” he huffs, folding up his arms. “All I’m saying is that some of us aren’t exactly thrilled at the prospect of noble life.”

Leandra gives Hawke a pleading look, but she ignores it and stands up abruptly.

“I have to meet with Varric,” she blurts, “it’s about the Deep Roads expedition. Don’t wait up for me.”

“Carver, you should go with her. It’s not safe in this neighborhood at night,” Leandra says.

“No need,” Hawke interrupts, “I’ve made this trek alone countless times. I can handle myself. And I’ll have Fergus. Isn’t that right boy?”

Fergus perks up, then the two head outside together. The alley is dark but the stars are bright tonight. As she and Fergus head toward the Hanged Man, she is surprised at how quiet it is. No matter what time it is, there are usually people found wandering about this part of Lowtown. The silence is not unsettling, but it’s not a comfort either. She keeps her guard up the whole journey and feels a sense of relief when she arrives at the tavern having not encountered trouble along the way.

The tavern is also rather empty tonight. There are a few regulars at the bar, but other than that it’s mostly dead. She smiles at Corff and heads straight back to Varric’s room. Not bothering to knock, she and Fergus burst right through the door.

“I could have been naked, you know,” Varric remarks. He is sitting at his desk, steeped in papers as usual.

“Dammit, that’s exactly what I was hoping,” she remarks with a smirk, “hopefully I'll have better luck next time.”

With a grin, he shakes his head, “as always, I’m flattered—but I’m a little too old for you, kid.”

She laughs at his remark while sprawling out across his bed, kicking off her shoes.

“Too old for me, huh?” She smirks, propping up her head on her arm, “And _kid_? Just how young do you think I am?”

“Younger than me,” he quips, lifting up his arms in mock defense.

She smiles while narrowing her eyes at him.

“Believe it or not, I’m beyond 22,” he smirks, “I’m a lot older than I look, Hawke. I’ve aged like a fine wine.”

“Oh so you just get better with age? Let me take a guess then. You must be what, 40? 42?” She winks.

“Maker’s balls! Now you’re just insulting me,” he exclaims.

“Please, you don’t look a day over…25,” she smiles.

“That’s better,” he chuckles, sitting down on the end of the bed. “So, what brings you here, Nat?”

“I need you to get me very drunk,” she responds sternly. 

“That can certainly be arranged,” he laughs. “Count me in.”

“You’re an angel,” she winks, distractedly playing with his arm hair.

He frowns at her, “are you okay? Need a listening ear?”

She shakes her head, “no, but I…I would just rather drink. If you don’t mind.”

“Your wish is my command,” he grins, reaching out a hand to help her up.

“To the bar!”

* * *

Varric has a few drinks with Hawke, but cuts himself off several drinks earlier than her. At least one of them should be semi-sober. Besides, this night of drinking the sorrows away—or at least trying to distract from them—is for her. He’s just the supportive best friend helping ensure she has a good time and remains safe in the process.

Several beers later she is stumbling back into Varric’s room, leaning on him for support, which is a bit awkward considering how much taller she is than him. They manage to make it back to his bed and she topples down onto it in a not-so-graceful manner. Fergus is snoring in the corner and barely stirs at their noisy entrance.

“Oh Varric, your bed is sooooo comfortable,” she coos, flipping onto her back. “You can’t imagine how positively dreadful it is to sleep on a cot every night at _Gamlen’s_.”

“You forget how much worse it is sleeping on the ground when our work takes us out to the Wounded Coast,” he points out, plopping down next to her.

“Mmm, you’re right,” she sighs, “or those nights camping in the treacherous Injured Hills or Head-Trauma Bay.”

“Even drunk off of your ass, you still have your wit,” he chuckles.

“Varric, what’s wrong with me?” She turns on her side to face him.

He looks at her curiously. “There’s nothing wrong with you, Nat. Why would ask that?”

She frowns, looking like she is trying hard to concentrate on something. “Well I just…I don’t know. I can’t seem to get anything right. Even when I think I finally do, it’s not enough for anyone in my family,” she says with a bit of slur to her words.

_Ah, so here comes the real reason she needed a night like this._

“Family shit is complicated, Nat. Trust me, I’ve been through my fair share of it,” he says, “you’ve met Bartrand. There’s a reason I keep a room here and spend most of my time with your band of misfits.”

“Do you think your own _brother_ would betray you, though?”

_A surprisingly blunt question, but then again it’s Hawke._

“I don’t know about that one,” he says thoughtfully, “honestly, I wouldn’t put it past him. Bartrand has always been out for himself.”

“Carver wants to be a templar,” she blurts, “says it’s something he’s been thinking about for _quite some time_.”

_Oh shit._

“I see…” 

He knows why this is hurting her—understands how it would feel like such a slap in the face— but he can’t seem to conjure up the right words to comfort her. He’s angry that Carver would do something so hurtful—and stupid—to Hawke and wants to go shake the kid until he comes to his senses. Doing that would be easier than knowing what to say to her in this moment.

“I guess it makes sense. He has always disliked the fact that I had magic, didn’t like that Bethany and our father did too. He says it _ruined_ his childhood—our family always having to live on the run,” she explains, talking extremely fast now. “Maker, it’s so hot in here. Are you warm too? I feel so…oh, magic! Right, so Carver and Mum were the only ones who didn’t have it—magic that is, and I used to think he was jealous of me and Beth, but now—“ 

Hawke sits up abruptly and frantically tries to remove her outer clothes, but her hands shake too much to unbutton her cloak. She continues to struggle for a moment then gives up, moving onto her shoes.

He hasn’t seen her like this before—so incredibly anxious and worked up. He has seen her get angry and deliver justice to their enemies, but this is different. She also happens to be drunk, which probably doesn’t help the situation. He finds it surprising that despite her state of inebriation she is able to form such coherent thoughts. She’s rambling and slurring a bit, but otherwise possesses an intense focus on the topic at hand.

“Here, let me help,” Varric offers calmly, unbuttoning her cloak. 

“So uh…” she frowns, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, I forgot what I was saying.”

“You were telling me about your brother’s jealously over you and your sister,” he reminds her, helping slide off her boots.

“Right! So I always thought that was it—that he was jealous, of our magic and the way it bonded us with Father in a way he couldn’t. He was right about that part, that our father spent a lot more time with me and Beth. He loved us all but we just…we _needed_ him more. It’s hard to explain,” she sighs, pulling off her stockings.

“Well, I’m listening,” he says, offering a friendly smile.

“Although…I don’t think he was actually jealous after all. About our magic that is. I think he hates it. Maybe he even hates me too—probably why he gets so _angry_ with me all the time. He thinks my magic ruined his whole life. Now he wants to get his revenge and be the very thing that hunts and enslaves people like me,” she says quietly, laying back down. 

“Look, you know I’m not exactly Carver’s biggest fan—but Nat, I don’t think Carver hates you. That’s a really strong word. The two of you clash, pretty hard. But at the end of the day you guys are family, the only sister he has now. He wouldn’t become a templar just to hurt you,” Varric says, trying to comfort her.

She shakes her head as tears well up in her eyes. “Usually I agree with you. But not this time. It doesn’t make sense why else he would do this.”

Varric is quiet, but pulls her closer to him and rub small circles on her back. He knows she’s truly hurt and doesn’t know any other way to bring her comfort. He hates seeing her in pain like this.

_Please don’t cry, Hawke. That fucking Carver…ugh._

“I don’t know what it’s like to have magic, _or_ to live life as an apostate with that constant fear ofbeing caught by the templars hanging over your head,” he begins, “but I _do_ know what it’s like to have a brother, a brother who is more concerned about himself than the needs of his family. I know what it’s like to be let down by your own flesh and blood.”

Hawke turns on her side so she can look at him. Her eyes are red and sleepy, but she has a look of understanding. They both feel the same kind of loneliness.

He affectionately brushes some strands of her hair away from her face. “Look, I don’t know how you feel, but I _know_ how you feel—if you get what I’m saying. People say family is everything, that nothing is more important—and maybe they’re right. But in my experience, it’s the family that you _choose_ that ends up mattering the most. Those are the people I’d die for.”

_Like you, Hawke._

She smiles and sleepily lays her head on his chest. “I’d die for you, Varric,” she sighs.

“Right back at you, Hawke. _Gladly,_ and without hesitation.”

“I wouldn’t let you, though,” she chuckles, “I don’t wanna be stuck here without you. I’d lose my mind.”

“Hey, you’re not getting rid of me that easy,” he chuckles, “I’m a resilient dwarf.”

“Then I guess we’re stuck together for a long time,” she whispers, barely able to keep her eyes open. 

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he says, giving her arm a squeeze. She’s already asleep and he isn’t far behind her.

_The family you choose._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some platonic love between Hawke and her favorite dwarf <3 I love exploring the unique bond between the these two. More on Fenris and Hawke in the next chapter, don't worry! :)


	5. Chapter 5

Hawke wakes up to the smell of tea in the familiar surroundings of Varric’s room. The other side of the bed is empty so she assumes he is already having breakfast. This isn’t the first time she has pulled an all-nighter there, and probably not the last. She hops out of the bed, yawning dramatically and stretching her arms out widely. She is more undressed than usual, only wearing her small under clothes and is a bit surprised, having no recollection of taking off her other clothes. She shrugs and pads across the room on her bare feet, slipping into a seat at Varric’s table.

“Well look who finally decided to join the world of waking,” he quips, glancing up from a parchment he was combing over carefully.

She frowns, pressing her hand against the side of her head. “Maker’s dick, I feel like I got knocked out by Carver’s mallet.”

Varric chuckles, “that sounds about right.”

“How much did I have to drink?” She asks, raising her eyebrows.

“Well, let’s see,” he muses, “I think I lost count after you climbed on top of a table, performing a striptease for all the patrons at the bar.”

“I did not!” She gasps, looking at him with both question and disbelief.

“Okay, maybe that’s a bit of an exaggeration,” he laughs, “but that’s the story I’m sticking to when I get around to writing my novel.”

She glares at him, liberally pouring milk and sugar into her cup of tea. 

He lifts his hands up defensively. “Hey now, it’s not like you can even remember what _actually_ happened!”

“Which is what, exactly?” She asks with a mouthful of bread.

“A rather uneventful evening. Nothing worth writing about, really,” he waves his hand, “if I were you, I’d stick to the first story. It will make you seem like a more interesting, well-rounded character.”

She glances down at her lack of clothing, then back up at him. “We didn’t, um…” she swallows, “you know…”

“No, I don’t think I _do_ know,” he says with a big smirk, “you’re going to have to be more specific.”

“ _Varric_!” She whispers harshly, her face turning red. “Did we or did we not, you know… _do stuff_?!”

He bursts out laughing, leaning back in his chair.

“I’m glad you find this all so amusing,” she says, narrowing her eyes.

“Maker’s balls, Hawke,” he laughs, shaking his head. “No, nothing like _that_ happened between us, okay? And honestly, I’m a little offended that you think it’s possible it did, even though you can’t remember. Trust me, if you and I did the deed, you’d _remember_. Not to toot my own horn or anything, but I’m pretty hard to forget.”

She rolls her eyes, letting out a loud sigh.

“I was a perfect gentleman,” he grins, taking a sip of his tea.

“Fine, I believe you,” she concedes, “but I have to ask. Why am I only wearing this?”

“Oh that was all you, Nat,” he chuckles. “You were in the middle of pouring your heart out to me about your family woes when you suddenly got very ‘hot’ and starting trying desperately to get out of your clothes—which you weren’t doing a very good job at. So I offered some assistance.”

She places her head in her hands, letting out a frustrated moan. “Family woes, yes of course. Fucking Carver.”

“Fucking Carver,” he agrees, finishing a piece of a bread.

“Well, thank you—for last night,” she smiles, shaking her head. “It sounds like I really needed that. I know I did. I just wish those problems could go away permanently.”

“Don’t we all,” he agrees.

“I have to admit, I’m a little embarrassed, “she confesses. “I probably made a complete ass out of myself.”

“You did no such thing,” he insists. “Hawke, it’s _me_. There’s no side of you I can’t handle.”

“I suppose you’re right,” she laughs. “But still, I practically begged you to undress me. I’m a teensy bit mortified at the thought.”

“Please, you have nothing to be ashamed of,” he waves his hand dismissively. “Besides, you’re beautiful and you know it. You don’t have to be so modest.”

“I don’t know about that,” she chuckles, “but interestingly enough, Fenris would agree with you.”

“Well of course he would, he’d be blind not to,” Varric says flippantly. “But I’m getting the sense this is new information to you?”

“The night before the raid, I spent a couple hours at his manor with him, sharing some wine like we often do,” she begins. “But this time felt..different, I don’t know.”

Varric holds her gaze, silently urging her to go on.

“My hair was down and it must have been the first time he saw it like that because he couldn’t seem to stop staring at it,” she relays, with a hint of a smile over her lips. “Somehow we got onto the topic of beauty and how I think my hair is my only pretty feature.”

She shakes her head, stopping to take a sip of tea.

“Well, my saying that really seem to upset him, like _truly_. He started rambling on about whatthe word _pretty_ meant, who and what fit that word and how it was so inferior to what he thinks I am. He told me that I am ‘so inexplicably, beautiful’, something about _cloudless starry nights_ and the best of both _dark and bright_. It was like he was reciting a poem to me or something, he was so… _intense_ ,” she explains, meeting Varric’s gaze with a look of confusion.

“Dang,” Varric breathes, “sounds like Broody’s really pining for you. I mean, I don’t blame him—he’s right, you’re a very beautiful woman, Nat. But I am a little surprised that he would be so…obvious about it.”

“Oh please, I don’t think that’s it at all,” she shakes her head. “Fenris is…different than most. We both know how intense he can be.”

“Right, and if Broody was into someone it would make sense for him to get all intense and poetic about it,” Varric says pointedly. “Now that I think about it, I’m even more convinced that’s what this was.”

Hawke’s face is feeling warm and she nervously fiddles with a strip of tablecloth, refusing to look up at Varric.

“Wait a second,” he grins, “how does this make _you_ feel?”

She shrugs. “It doesn’t make me feel any certain way.”

He shakes his head, giving her a knowing look. “I saw you getting all bashful around him the other day when he showed up here. I figured it was probably nothing, but now I’m not so sure!”

She narrows her eyes at him, letting out a huff of annoyance. “Go on, tease me until you get tired of it. See if I care.” She gets up and walks over to the bed, beginning to put her clothes back on.

“Well Maker be damned, I wasn’t imagining it at all. Hawke’s got herself a little crush!”

“Fuck off,” she mutters, lacing up her pants.

“Maybe I should start a romance series now,” he muses, “the broody elven warrior with a dark past falls for the gregarious sexy mage, igniting them both in a primal passion that neither can contain.”

“You’re lucky I don’t ignite _you_ right now with a fireball,” she quips, allowing a small fire to form in each of her hands.

“Oh come on, Nat,” he begs, “I’m just having way too much fun with this!”

She pulled her tunic over head, muttering a string of curses.

“Aren’t you at least a little curious to see how far _down_ his lyrium markings go? I bet your touch would make them glow…”

She shakes her head, marching toward the door, Fergus in tow.

“Hawke! Don’t leave yet, I’m only getting started,” he laughs.

“I think you’ve had quite enough for the day,” she rolls her eyes, stepping out into the hallway.

“Hawke, I’m your best friend! You can tell me anything!” He shouts after her as she slams the door.

“Well Andraste’s tits,” he mutters to himself, “I’m going to have a lot of fun with this.”

* * *

Fenris paces back and forth in front of his fire place. He’s not exactly anxious, but feels more restless than normal. Aside from assisting in the raid of the Amell Estate vault, he hasn’t seen Hawke since that night where he blurted out how beautiful he thinks she is, going on and on about it for far longer than he probably should have. It was a good thing to correct her— regarding that false notion she had about not being pretty—anyone with sense would have done that. But in hindsight he could see that he had done more than that and now he was worried he may have revealed too much of his feelings. The last thing he wanted was for things to become awkward between them. There already had been enough tension over their differing views on magic, surely this would only make things more uncomfortable.

_However, she_ did _agree to let you join her on the expedition to the Deep Roads. In fact, she seemed quite glad that you offered. If things were too awkward after your admission, she wouldn’t have accepted._

Fenris plays back their conversation in his mind, analyzing her every word, taking note of her reactions to the things he told her. At one point she even had tears in her eyes. That couldn’t have been a good thing. Yet, she claimed it was because no one had ever told her these things. It seemed like what he said truly meant something to her. Maybe…he didn’t know how these things usually worked. Maker, he was bad at this.

_It has been three days since the raid and she hasn’t even stopped by for a drink. It’s a little too convenient that her absence came after that particular night. She must to be avoiding you, it’s the only explanation. You were way too intense—probably scared her off._

He lets out a loud groan and reaches for an unopened bottle of whiskey. He already finished one bottle a few minutes ago, but it wasn’t enough to take the edge off. He can feel the tension he is carrying all throughout his body, resulting in a chronic discomfort. He collapses into his chair and takes a few large gulps of the whiskey. It burns, but it’s not a feeling he hates. In fact, the more he drinks the better he is able to relax. 

By the time he is halfway through the bottle, he finds himself thinking about Hawke again. He pictures her sitting there across from him, her long silky dark hair cascading down her back. Her icy blue eyes meet his gaze and her rosy plump lips curl up in a smirk. Like usual, she is wearing her form-fitting leathers and cowl neck top—which reveals just the slightest bit of cleavage, but still leaves much to the imagination. She has a slender frame—people scraping around for coin in Lowtown don’t get much to eat—but even through her clothes he can tell she has nicely plump breasts. He imagines cupping one in his hand, wondering if it would fill his palm or spill over. Just the thought has him stiffening quickly.

_You shouldn’t be thinking these kinds of things. It will only make it worse._

Oh the things he would do to her, if she let him. In one fell swoop he would remove that thin, barely-even-there cowl neck top and rip off the remainder of her clothes. He wants her fully naked before him, pale skin glowing in the light of the fire and her long hair splayed across her breasts. He would burrow his face against her neck, kissing and licking up to her ear, then would pull on her lobe with his teeth. He would take both of her nipples between his fingers, first rubbing circles then pinching tightly. He would look deep into her eyes, making sure she was enjoying every moment of it-- then he would hook both her legs under his arms, lifting her up and carrying her to his bed. His own member would be harder than rock, burning with heat and begging for release. But he is a man who likes to take his time. Even if she begged for him to be inside her, he would make her wait…because he needs to taste her. He won’t stop until his appetite is sated. 

_Maker have mercy on my soul._

He stands up and places one hand on the fireplace bricks to support himself as he leans over. The fantasy of taking her is too much to bear and he relents, pulling out his cock. He closes his eyes, imagining himself tasting every inch of her, as he begins stroking himself. He lets out a grunt and quickens his pace, on the verge of release. He’s only seconds away. He wonders how good it would feel to hear his name on her lips. The image in his mind of her naked, legs splayed open on his bed is more than enough to take him over and he finishes with a groan, spilling his seed into the hearth.

_I am going to hell for this._

He grabs a piece of clothing off the floor and uses it to wipe his hands, then re-laces his breaches. He lets out a sigh of relief as he tumbles into his bed. There is a lingering feeling of shame at his actions, but the release of tension has him feeling better than he has in weeks. It’s not like she knows he pleasured himself to the thought of her. How bad it could be?

_She would hate you if she knew what you just did. Enough with these inappropriate thoughts!_

He lays there awhile, feeling conflicting emotions about what he just did. He didn’t actually do anything to Hawke, and he would never dream of doing anything to her that she wasn’t okay with—but somehow he still has this strong sense of guilt. It’s as if he defiled a memory of her, taking that thought of her by the fireplace and perverting it into a fantasy intended for his personal pleasure and gratification. 

_This was not real. You didn’t share this experience with her. You are alone._

He punches his fist against his mattress, muttering a string of curses, as he flips over onto his face. Thankfully the bottle has finally gone to his head and he is overcome with a sleepy haze. As he drifts off into oblivion, the last thing he sees is that mischievous little smirk splaying over her lips.


	6. Chapter 6

“It’s so nice to have guests for a change! I’ve been wanting to host a gathering of some sort for awhile now since settling in,” Merrill exclaims excitedly as she scurries around her kitchen grabbing plates and tea cups. “I don’t have much experience baking, but I think this loaf turned out nicely. I added a few extra herbs to the recipe to make it my own. I hope everyone likes it!”

Aveline gives Hawke a tense smile as Merrill places a slice of bread in front of her on a dilapidated plate that’s state of cleanliness is questionable at best. Hawke musters up a smile as well, trying to appear grateful for Merrill’s efforts. Isabela, however, makes no attempt to hide her reaction whatsoever.

She crinkles her nose, dangling the stiff slice of bread in the air for closer examination. “What in the Maker’s name is this? I’ve had my fair share of interesting cuisine, but this doesn’t even seem like f _ood_. Why is it so yellow?”

Aveline kicks her under the table and Isabela shoots her a glare.

“What’s the matter, does it not look right?” Merrill frowns.

“It looks fine, Merrill,” Hawke smiles warmly, “I think Isabela has spent too much time on ships to be a good judge of home-made baked goods.”

Isabela rolls her eyes.

“Um, Merrill…what sorts of herbs did you add to your bread?” Aveline asks carefully, eyeing her bread with concern. “I have some… _food allergies_ so I want to make sure the ingredients are safe for me to eat.”

“Mostly dandelions, but I tossed in some motherwort, elfroot…and I think something else,” she explains, “ah yes, scallions. That’s it. Those things are growing all over the alienage so I figured might as well put it to good use!” Isabela snorts, “oh boy, this ought to be good.”

Hawke decides to be brave and take the first bite. The bread isn’t completely solid, but a lot more firm than anything she is used to. It tastes extremely bitter and is very difficult to chew, but she tries her best to seem like she’s enjoying it. 

“Mmm,” she mutters, “this is…such a creative recipe, I can tell it’s original. Never had anything like it before.”

Aveline follows her lead, but has more trouble choking hers down. She has to take a large drink of her tea to wash it down. “Sorry Merrill, my palate is more limited than Hawke’s. I’m so used to the same few things they serve us in the barracks that my taste buds have become terribly sensitive,” she explains. “What an interesting blend of herbs you put in here. I wish I was able to fully appreciate the um… _flavors_.”

“You know, I just realized I’m not very hungry,” Isabela smiles sweetly. “I already had breakfast at the Hanged Man this morning. My stomach is still quite full.”  


“I could wrap a few slices up to send with you for later!” Merrill offers with enthusiasm.

“Oh sweetheart, that won’t be necessary. Please, save the rest for yourself or give some to your neighbors. I know food is scarce over here,” Isabella insists.

Merrill sits down next to Hawke and begins nibbling on a piece of her bread. “Oh! This is much better than I expected. For a moment I was worried I had messed the whole thing up, but this loaf is so rich in flavor. Who would have thought I’d end up being such a wonderful baker?”

“No one ever called you _that_ ,” Isabela whispers under her breath.

“So,” Hawke coughs, gathering their attention. “You’re probably all wondering why I wanted to speak with you three.”

She sets her piece of bread down, giving up on trying to finish it.

“I wanted to let you know that I’ve gathered enough coin for my share of the funding for the Deep Roads expedition,” she begins, “after going over details with Varric and Bartrand, it has been decided that the expedition will leave a week from tomorrow.”

“Oh Hawke, that’s so exciting! I mean, I know the Deep Roads are scary—what with the masses of darkspawn and all—but I know you’ve been preparing for this for as long as I’ve known you,” Merrill says encouragingly.

“I’ve had to give a lot of thought to who will be joining Varric and I on the expedition,” Hawke explains. “We’re limited in how many people can come. Due to the nature of the Deep Roads and purpose of the expedition, a smaller group is most ideal. Bartrand informed me that other than Varric, I am only able to bring two others along.”

“And let me guess, none of us are the lucky—or perhaps _unlucky_ —two?” Isabela smirks.

Hawke presses her lips together and gives a nod. 

“It’s nothing personal. If it were up to me I’d bring all of you. You’re all very skilled and strong assets to my team. Each of you has been there when I need you and I am very grateful for that,” she says earnestly. “But one of those two should be Anders. He _is_ a Grey Warden after all and knows the Deep Roads better than any of us. Plus he has years of experience fighting darkspawn. I’d be foolish not to bring him along.”

“And I suppose Carver would be the other?” Aveline guesses. “From the very beginning it was clear you two were in this together.”

“Actually, I won’t be bringing Carver with me,” Hawke says slowly. “But please don’t say anything just yet. I haven’t had that conversation with him and I’m worried about how he will react. He has a great deal of pride and this will severely wound it.”

Aveline sucks in a breath, “I would not want to be there for _that_ discussion.”

“Ever since we set out to prepare for this expedition, my mother has been begging me almost daily to leave Carver back with her. He’s her youngest child—what she has left of Bethany. The reality is that it’s very dangerous in the Deep Roads and we are putting our lives at a great risk to go there. My mother could not bear to lose both of us, so this will ensure she won’t,” Hawke explains. “Though I’m doing all of this for her to begin with, it will be comforting to know she will always have one of us to take care of her. Even if I do make it out fine, the journey could take months and I think it would be too hard on her to be alone with Gamlen that whole time.”

“I think it’s sweet that you try so hard to keep Carver out of danger,” Merrill offers, “even though he’s a grown man you still see him as your little brother.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” Hawke laughs dryly. “Though I don’t think he finds it quite as sweet.”

“So that leaves Fenris,” Isabela smirks. “Good pick. Can’t say I blame you.”

“He expressed a desire to accompany us,” Hawke explains, ignoring Isabela’s playful grin. “We’ll need a good warrior with us. It was you or him, Aveline.”

“While I would have been willing to help you if you came down to it, I must say that I am thankful it worked out this way,” Aveline smiles. “I’ve got my hands full with the guard as it is. Taking an indefinite leave of absence wouldn’t have been the easiest thing to manage”

“I’m glad you all understand,” Hawke smiles, sounding relieved. “Now I just have to rip the bandaid off and break the news to Carver.”

“Can I be there when you tell him? He’s very cute when he’s angry,” Isabela winks.

* * *

“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” Fenris groans with irritation, glaring at Varric.

“I have no idea what you mean,” Varric grins.

The two of them are waiting for Hawke at the Hanged Man to go over final details of the expedition. According to Varric, it was three hours ago when she left to break the news to Carver, but judging by how long it is taking he would guess it’s not going well.

In the mean time, he and Varric have sat around with very few words being exchanged, putting back a pitcher of ale. The silence was somewhat uncomfortable and it felt like Varric was watching him, which only added to his discomfort. He was, however, thankful that Anders hadn’t shown his face yet. He could think of a thousand other things he’d rather do than sit in the company of that abomination for Maker knows how long. 

“I keep catching you staring at me out of the corner of my eye,” Fenris states with suspicion.

“You’re the only other person at this table. What do you want me to do, look at the ceiling?”

“It’s not just that, it’s the _way_ you’re looking at me. It feels intensely scrutinizing.”

“Well you might as well get used to it, Broody,” Varric chuckles. “I keep a close eye on all of you interesting characters Hawke keeps company with. It’s my job.”

“As her business associate, or body guard?” 

“Both? What do you want me to say, Broody?” Varric grins. “Hawke is my best friend and I’m a far better judge of character than her.”

“For the love of the Maker, would you _please_ stop calling me that?” He groans. “And what’s that supposed to mean—are you implying that you disapprove of her choice to allow me to come on the expedition?”

“I’m not implying anything. All I’m saying is you better get used to me keeping an eye on you. It’s nothing personal,” Varric says raising his eyebrows.

“Well I certainly hope you are investing that level of attention into that _abomination_ who will be joining us. If there’s anyone to be concerned about, that would be it,” Fenris says dryly.

“Way ahead of you, Broo—Elf,” Varric quips, taking a large swig of ale.

A moment later Hawke bursts through the door of the pub, looking rather disheveled. Her hair had been half tied up, but stray pieces of it are now sticking out in every which way. Her face is slightly red and it looks like she has been crying.

Hawke keeps her head down as she approaches them, not making eye contact with anyone. She takes a seat across from Varric, but doesn’t even take her cloak off.

Varric’s whole demeanor has already shifted and he is eyeing her with grave concern. He reaches out his hand to touch hers, but she flinches and pulls away.

“Hawke, are you alright?” Varric asks softly. “Did things go _that_ bad with Carver?”

Before she gets a chance to answer, Anders suddenly appears, joining them at the table. He seems oblivious to the tension in the group. 

“Sorry I’m late! I had a few extra patients at my clinic today. They all caught wind of the fact that I’ll be gone for several weeks. Things got a little hectic,” he explains.

Hawke glances up at Anders, then redirects her gaze to Varric. She isn’t crying, but her eyes are puffy and the whites are bloodshot.

Varric doesn’t say anything, but it seems like the two of them are communicating somehow just by looking at each other. They hold that stare for what feels like forever and Fenris finds himself slightly envious at the level of intimacy they possess. He wishes he could offer her some sort of comfort, but is at a complete loss.

“A word?” Varric offers quietly.

Hawke nods and the two stand up in unison, then head upstairs in the direction of his quarters.

“I feel like I missed something,” Anders frowns, looking at Fenris.

“Don’t ask me, mage,” he grumbles. “Family business.”

“Do you remember much about your family, Fenris?” Anders asks. “From before your time as a slave?”

“If I did, I wouldn’t talk about it with you,” he says flatly.

“So much for trying to make conversation,” Anders mutters.

After about 30 minutes of awkward silence, Hawke and Varric finally return. Hawke is smiling and laughing at something Varric said—no sign of the earlier distress showing on her face. Varric always seemed to know what to say to her. It was almost as if he was the one with the magic.

They give the group a rundown of the plans for tomorrow. Anders’s Grey Warden maps indicate that there is an entrance to the Deep Roads not far from the city. Much of this little overview is taken over by Anders going on and on about how perilous the Deep Roads are and the dangers of dealing with darkspawn. Nothing Fenris hasn’t heard before. He knows it won’t be easy, but he has fought his fair share of darkspawn. Anders’s lecture only seems like a last ditch attempt to talk Hawke out of the expedition, which he was never very keen on to begin with.

“Nervous about tomorrow?” Hawke asks Fenris, giving his arm a squeeze.

Varric and Anders are up at the bar talking with Corff and company.

“If you’re asking if I’m afraid of the Deep Roads, then no,” Fenris replies. “But Varric’s brother Bartrand does give me bad vibes. Are you sure you can trust him?”

“No, I’m not sure I can,” she laughs. “But I trust Varric. He will make sure everything is fair and goes according to plan.”  


“I hope you’re right.”

They stand next to each other for a moment, saying nothing. He wants to ask her about earlier, but is afraid of upsetting her.

“Carver might hate you a little bit after tonight,” Hawke says, a small smile playing on her lips. “I may have exaggerated a tad regarding your enthusiasm about coming with us to the Deep Roads. I was running out of excuses—or least any that he’d accept.”

“I don’t think he liked me much to begin with,” Fenris chuckles. “No true loss there.”

She smiles but says nothing.

“Are you…okay? I can’t imagine that conversation was easy.”

“I will be,” she sighs. “A lot of unkind words were exchanged tonight, some that will be forgiven but others that won’t be forgotten.”

“I see,” he nods.

“On the bright side, my mother is quite pleased with these arrangements,” she laughs dryly. “Her precious baby boy will be right by her side, out of harm’s way.”

“I highly doubt she won’t be worried about you, though. I’m sure she is aware of this risk you are about to take,” Fenris offers.

“She is aware, but it’s a risk she is comfortable with me taking. I suppose I’m the disposable Hawke.”

Fenris frowns at her, studying her face. She is being dry and cynical, but underneath he can sense a great deal of bitterness.

“You are not disposable,” he shakes his head. “I’ve never met anyone like you. To know you and lose you would be a great tragedy.”

She raises an eyebrow at him. “Oh? Are you saying you’d miss me?”  


“I think that goes without saying,” he shrugs. “But no one’s going to lose you, Hawke. This whole thing seems well-planned out. And even if something _does_ go wrong, I will be at your side.”

“My hero,” she coos, eyeing him playfully.

She is kidding around but the inside of his chest feels very warm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Off to the Deep Roads very soon! Perhaps Fenris and Hawke will have a little more bonding time ;)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it has been awhile, but I'm back! For anyone that has been enjoying this fic, I apologize for the delay. I promise I have not given up on it. I had bit of writer's block and then things in my life got very busy for awhile. I didn't feel motivated to return to it until recently. So alas, here we are. This chapter is a lot longer than the others, so hopefully it's good and makes up for my lack of updating. If you are reading this and enjoying it, please leave me some love on the comments! I would really appreciate it <3 Even if your feedback is constructive, I'd love to hear it. I think it would help motivate me to keep going with this.

The darkness of the Deep Roads was unlike any darkness Fenris had ever experienced before. As a slave, he had even spent days locked in a cell without much light. But this was different. There was something very unsettling about being several miles below the surface of the earth. The darkness practically permeated your bones. Never before had he longed so much for the sun. He missed the warmth of it on his face, the refreshing feeling that came when the clouds suddenly gave way to its golden embrace. More so, he missed the way it made Hawke glow, illuminating the delicate features of her face. It always seemed to bring out a more joyful side of her, even on the worst of days. Since they had been down here, he only saw her by the light of their torches.

The whole group was tense. This expedition had been looming over for several months, but actually being on it was a different story. They hadn’t gotten off to the easiest start either. Not long after their initial descent, they had discovered the passageway was blocked and had to seek out another way. They had to fight dozens of darkspawn to secure their new passageway. But darkspawn weren’t even the worst part—there were several Giant Spiders crawling about, unlike anything he had ever seen before. Slaughtering them had been no easy feat. The Deep Roads were no place to mess around. Several venturers were not fortunate enough to ever return, being left to a cruel and tortured fate. Fenris still felt confident that their party was prepared and capable, but it was very sobering to consider as they ventured about these ancient dark halls.

Hawke had not said much since they left on the expedition. She tried to keep a stone face, but Fenris could see the pain in her eyes. Her mother had turned up the morning they were set to leave, trying to offer some encouragement and show concern for her daughter’s safety. It all seemed very hollow. Fenris had to bite his tongue, wanting so badly to lash out at the woman who put her and Carver’s safety before her own daughter’s. He knew she had caused Hawke a great deal of hurt, and for that he did not care for Leandra. Carver had not even bothered to show up. _Coward_.

“This looks like a decent place to set up camp for the night,” Varric remarks, interrupting a silence that had lasted for over an hour. “What do you say, Hawke?”

“Sounds good to me,” she nods.

It’s the first night they are apart from the rest of the group, having ventured farther out in search of the thaig. They were to report back to Bartrand once they located it. While it made sense to only send a few, it seemed like Hawke’s party was getting the short end of the stick. Varric certainly felt that way and didn’t hesitate to make that known. He and Bartrand had bickered constantly since they day they left for the Deep Roads. Bartrand was always the one calling the shots, refusing to listen to the reason and rationale of his younger brother. His pride made him very hard to work with and Fenris was thankful that at least now they didn’t have to spend every moment with Bartrand over their shoulders, micromanaging everything.

“There are only two tents,” Anders points out, “what happened to the rest?”

Varric shakes his head. “It’s no big deal, we’ll just have to buddy up. Hawke and I will share, you can bunk up with Broody.”

“I’d allow myself to be eaten by darkspawn before I’d sleep in close proximity to that abomination,” Fenris growls.

“Can’t say I want to snuggle up with you either, Elf,” Anders mutters. “Hawke, would you like to share with me?”

The thought of that makes Fenris sick to his stomach. His face is getting hot and his jaw tenses. He cannot decide if he wants to throw up or a blast a whole through the stone with his fists.

“Actually, Blondie, I think I’m just gonna bunk with you,” Varric adds quickly. “So now it’s all settled.”

Anders frowns, looking confused. Hawke and Varric exchange a look before setting up the tents, and the whole time Varric maintains a bit of a smirk. Fenris isn’t sure what just happened, but senses Varric might have some ulterior motive.

* * *

“Is it going to freak you out to sleep next to a mage?” Hawke asks, sitting down next to Fenris by the campfire. They just finished dinner and now Varric and Anders are chatting about something over mugs of ale.

Fenris looks at her and is instantly startled by her beauty. Her ebony hair is now loosely hanging over her shoulders and her facial expression is much softer than he has seen in days. 

“I’m not afraid of you, Hawke,” Fenris says flatly. 

“Aren’t worried my magic is going to infect you somehow? You wouldn’t want to to catch it,” she quips sarcastically. Her eyebrows are raised and a smile plays on her lips. He can tell she is in a good mood and just teasing him. He decides to play along.

“Well now that you mention it, I am a bit concerned. We will have to take precautions,” he muses.

He gently grabs ahold of her arm and shakes his head. She looks amused and allows him to continue his charade. 

“Just as I suspected,” he says gravely. He then runs his hand along her arm and up to her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers. “You see? A simple touch and I can practically feel the magic leaving your body and tainting mine.”

Hawke giggles, glancing at their hands but does not let go. “You’re concerned? Imagine how I must feel. My magic is all I have to protect myself and now I’ve discovered that you can just siphon it out of me with barely any effort.”

“I certainly wouldn’t do it on purpose. _Clearly_ I am in no need of magic,” he smirks.

“Right, of course not. You’ve got a very big sword there and you definitely know how to use it,” she says a bit flirtatiously with a smirk.

Her comment makes him blush and he is now very aware of the fact they are still holding hands. He likes the way it feels more than he would have thought and does not want to let go.

“We can manufacture some sort of barrier to prevent any accidental touching that could lead to you catching my magic,” she winks.

“It must be done, there’s no way around it,” he says seriously, “much as I wouldn’t mind the company of a beautiful woman next to me, I mustn’t forget that you are also quite _dangerous_.”

“There you go again, calling me beautiful,” she muses.

He squeezes her hand. “Hawke, you know that you are.”

She looks up from the fire and stares at him. He feels vulnerable, a bit exposed, but he doesn’t let go of her gaze. She seems to be searching for something as she looks into his eyes, but he isn’t sure what. They sit there like this for what feels like forever, but is probably only a minute or two.

Eventually she breaks the silence, shaking her head with a grin. “You shouldn’t tell me things like that.”

He frowns. “Why not? You don’t seem to protest when Varric lays it on thick with the compliments and flirtation. Isabela even.”

“Isabela sexually objectifies practically everyone she meets. Calling someone _beautiful_ is way too pure for her vocabulary,” she chuckles. “And Varric, well…he’s my best friend and playful flirtation has always just been part of our connection. It’s… _different_.”

“I see,” Fenris gruffs, letting go of Hawke’s hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to assume you felt any sort of connection to me. It’s different when it’s with people you’re close to. _Friends_. Not something I really know anything about.”

“ _Fenris_. You _are_ my friend,” Hawke says seriously. “I meant that I feel differently with _you_ than I do with Varric.”

“I don’t know what you mean, Hawke,” Fenris frowns.

Hawke sighs and lets out a soft chuckle. “When Varric calls me beautiful, it’s sweet and makes my day a little bit brighter. But when _you_ tell me that…”

Hawke glances away pensively, a bit of a blush forming on her cheeks.

“But what?” He asks, urging her to go on.

She looks back up at him and smiles weakly. “When you tell me that, it makes me almost believe it’s true. And it makes me feel…well it makes my heart warm.”

“Yet you want me to stop?” He shakes his head, confused.

“It feels really good to hear that, specifically coming from you. Maybe a little _too_ good. And that scares the hell out of me,” she admits.

Realization starts to dawn on him. He never would have expected Hawke to feel something for him, yet here she was nervously letting him know the kind of effect he had on her. He could barely believe it.

He gently touches her hand, trying to be tender and caring. He has no experience with this kind of thing—at least not that he can remember—and he isn’t sure what he’s supposed to say or do. What he does know is that he wants Hawke to feel safe with him and cared for. _Oh how he cares for her._

“Why does it scare you?” He asks curiously.

“Because I haven’t felt like this about anyone in a really long time. Maybe not ever, to be completely honest,” she admits. “But even the closest thing didn’t end well. I’m afraid of getting hurt.”

“Hawke, you don’t need to be afraid. I would never hurt you,” he insists.

“You don’t have to _intend_ to hurt someone to do so, it can just happen. It’s not always in your control,” she sighs.

“Look, Hawke. I…I’m not very good at this,” he blurts. “I don’t remember my life before I was a slave. I’m trying to and sometimes little pieces come back to me, but they’re all out of order and I just end up getting even more confused. I don’t know the right things to say or do. But what I _do_ know is that I enjoy spending time with you.”

She smiles at him and he gives her hand a squeeze.

“I very much like the way I feel when I’m around you,” he admits. “But I understand if you have reservations. Say the word, and I will keep my distance…if that is what you wish.”

“That isn’t what I want,” she shakes her head. “It’d probably be easier if I did. But truth be told, I like you very much, Fenris.”

His heart is practically bursting but he maintains his composure. “I like you too, Natasha. A great deal.”

“I like when you call me that,” she grins. “You’re the only friend that uses my first name. Varric calls me Nat, but you know, it’s not really the same.”

“Then I will keep calling you that, if that is what you wish,” he smiles.

“Just from you,” she winks.

Fenris leans in a little closer to Hawke, and before he even realizes what he’s doing he reaches out to gently push a strand of hair behind her ear. He lets his hand linger there, slightly cupping her cheek in his palm. His heart is beating heavy in his chest and he wants so badly to kiss her right then and there. 

Hawke places her hand over the one that is touching her face and gazes at him in a way that makes his knees feel weak. If he was going to kiss her, now would be the time to do it.

But they are not truly alone, he suddenly remembers as he simultaneously hears Varric laugh loudly in response to something Anders said. Hawke must have noticed this too because they instantly break away, glancing in the direction of their other party members.

Thankfully, Anders and Varric appear to be completely oblivious to the two of them. They aren’t within earshot of Fenris and Hawke’s hushed voices, and neither of them were facing their direction. Even so, the reminder of their presence has changed the mood. The moment has passed and if the two of them were to ever kiss, it would have to be another time. 

“It’s late,” Hawke states, standing up. “We should probably figure out a rotation for keeping watch.”

“I’ll take first watch,” Fenris offers.

“No, that’s okay. I’ll go first. I’m not quite ready for sleep,” she explains. “A lot on my mind..”

“Calling it a night?” Varric ask with a yawn, walking over to them.

“Yeah, I’m going to take first watch,” Hawke says. “Who wants to go next?”

They settle on a schedule and then everyone returns to their tents, aside from Hawke.

* * *

Fenris tries to get comfortable but sleep does not find him. Like Hawke, he has a lot on his mind right now and it’s not easy to quiet his thoughts. He keeps thinking about the flirtation between the two of them, and how naturally it turned into something more serious and intimate. It was the most honest either of them had been about their feelings for one another and although it did not go very far, he felt a deep joy inside him as reflected on their conversation. He could feel the grin spreading across his face as her words rang in his head. _I like you very much, Fenris._ And clearly this wasn’t an ordinary kind of like between friends. In contrast to Varric and Isabela, Hawke had made it clear that what she felt with Fenris was different than that. A good kind of different. Oh how he wished he had only gotten the chance to kiss her. The desire to press his own lips against hers had been itching at him for a long time. Perhaps the opportunity to do so would arise again soon. It wasn’t like she had seemed opposed to it. He’d settle for an unwelcome interruption over a rejection from Hawke.At least this way he’d be able to muster up the courage to try again.

The hopefulness the night had given him almost made him forget Hawke’s initial reservations. But as he struggled to find sleep, his mind continued to wander and he soon settled on that earlier conversation. While Hawke _had_ admitted she felt something for Fenris, she had also indicated a fear of being hurt that made her even wish she _didn’t_ feel this way about him. It would be unwise of him to ignore such a thing. She had said it was not the first time she had feelings like this for someone, and it was heavily implied that whoever that was had truly hurt her. While he could not recall if he had any past romantic relationships of his own, he knew all to well what it was like to be heavily burdened by one’s past. It certainly could keep you in shackles, even if you were now physically free. Hawke was not the only one with fears.

Fenris tried to shake off the doubts that began to plague him, but a sense of despair drifted over him. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea after all to pursue something beyond friendship with Hawke. He told her tonight that he would never hurt her, and while he certainly meant it, he realized now that maybe he wouldn’t be able to help it. It was just like she had said herself, sometimes it’s not in your control. Who was _he_ to think he had it together enough to be the man that Hawke deserved? He still couldn’t even figure out who he was before he was a slave. How would Hawke be able to care for someone who didn’t even know who they were? Whatever happened to her before, he didn’t want it to happen again. He could never live with himself if he became the reason for her pain. _So much for that kiss._

* * *

Fenris wasn’t sure how much time had passed since he had laid down to rest before his turn to keep watch, but he was sure at this point he wasn’t going to fall asleep. There was no use trying anymore anyway because it was probably almost his turn. Instead of waiting for Hawke to switch off, he decided to relieve her right then. At least someone should be getting some sleep.

He quietly steps out of their tent and sees her silhouette hunched over by the fire. She appears to be deep in thought and he wonders what’s going through her mind. Does she have just as many doubts as he does?

“I couldn’t sleep,” he explains, sitting down next to her. “I figured I’d start my turn early and let you get some rest.”

Her brow furrows as she looks at him. “What’s the matter, are you not feeling well?”

“It’s nothing out of the ordinary,” he says dryly. “Ever since I’ve escaped Danarius, I struggle to fully relax. I don’t typically find sleep until it overcomes me.”

“I’m sorry. Clearly I have no idea what it’s like to be on the run from a former master, but I do relate to the inability to find rest. Much of my family’s life was on the run because of our magic. It felt like you had to sleep with one eye open,” she relates.“Then there was life after Ostagar. Life after my father passed…and Bethany. The mind is like the ocean, not exactly easy to navigate, and far easier to drown in.”

“I forget that you were at the battle of Ostagar,” Fenris replies. “You don’t speak much of it. That must have been…” 

He clears his throat, “you are a very brave woman, Natasha.”

“It wasn’t because of bravery that I joined King Cailan’s army, nor was it for loyalty to my country,” she smiles sadly. “I was absolutely terrified of war. My father taught Bethany and I how to defend ourselves if we were ever captured by templars, but he didn’t instill offense in us. Our training was all about _protecting_ ourselves. That’s certainly useful in war, but I knew nothing of seeking out combat. I was taught to avoid a battle as much as possible before ever lifting a finger.”

“The idea of joining an army to go fight darkspwan during the Blight, well…let’s just say my intentions to help were not selfless,” she admits.

“May I ask why you joined, then?” Fenris questions gently.

“There were a couple reasons. The easy one was that Carver was joining and there was no stopping him from doing so. Mother put a great deal of pressure on me to go along and protect him. He was young and unskilled as a warrior. The odds of survival were not looking too great for him, but barrier protection spells are one of my strengths,” Hawke explains.

“Somehow it doesn’t surprise me that your mother would send you to war to protect your brother,” Fenris remarks with a hint of bitterness in his voice.

Hawke smiles. “Sounds like you are figuring out how my mother works,” she laughs. 

Fenris shrugs and motions for her to go on.

“Well, that was Mother’s idea. But my father…that was a different story. I was his baby girl, and while he trusted my abilities, he did not want me to put myself at risk. Even for Carver. He said that Carver was a man now and would have to learn to fend for himself. He never wanted me to be responsible for his safety just because I was the eldest,” Hawke relays. “Yes, he was quite the _opposite_ of my mother when it came to that.”

“I think I would have liked your father,” Fenris states.

“He would have liked you too,” she grins—a certain kind of grin she only has when she’s talking about her father, which is not often.

“So how did you end up joining anyway? It sounds like you didn’t want to go and your father was really pulling for you to stay put. What changed?” Fenris probes.

Hawke sighs. “Someone else I cared for was very involved in these affairs. He had to be there, it was his job.”

“It’s not that I don’t love my brother or wish to protect him, but…” she frowns, trying to form her feelings into words. “At that time I didn’t want to go to war for his protection. I thought he was being foolish and I didn’t want to pick up the pieces. But this other person who was bound to the cause—I cared a lot _more_ about them.”

She is quiet for a moment, looking deep in thought as she stares at the fire. Fenris stays silent, giving her the space she needs to collect her thoughts. He is very interested in this story, but doesn’t want to pry into private affairs she is unwilling to discuss.

“I feel guilty about that,” she states plainly, interrupting the silence. “I still think about that even now— how I went to war to protect someone else when I wouldn’t do it for my own brother. I don’t care how much of an asshole Carver can be, it’s still no excuse. It’s pretty fucking pathetic to think that Carver could have easily died and I would have just let him.”

“You’re too hard on yourself,” Fenris says.

She shakes her head vehemently. “No. This a burden I have to carry. I have to live with that ugly truth about myself.”

He says nothing, not knowing if anything he could say would even be helpful.

“I’m not even sure if it was love,” she says suddenly. “I certainly thought it was at the time, but looking back now I’m not so sure. I was young, passionate, and prone to overly romanticize things. It was all so convoluted and wrapped up in my fears of losing something I don’t think I ever truly had.”

“What was his name?” Fenris asks quietly.

“Duncan,” she says quietly. “He was much older than me and what we had was short lived. He was a Grey Warden—a Commander actually, though I didn’t know that until later. I met him when he was passing through Lothering about a year before the battle at Ostagar. We were both leaving the Chantry the first time we saw one another. Back then I used to go most mornings to recite the Chant of Light. I was quite the faithful little Andrastian. Can you imagine?” She chuckles.

“No, I really cannot,” he says with a half grin.

“I’m not sure who noticed who first, but I immediately felt drawn to him,” she admitted. “He was nice looking and all, but it wasn’t just that. I’d notice him sitting in the Chantry for hours at a time, just looking so full of despair and exhausted. I was very curious about him, wanted to know about his life and why he seemed so… _sad_.”

She shakes her head and gives a slight shrug.

“I didn’t have much experience with grief at that point in my life, maybe that’s why I was so curious. Either way, I think I was drawn to his darkness. He seemed so real, like someone who had truly _lived_ , you know? Lothering was the only place I had spent enough time in to even call home—but life on the run wasn’t some exciting adventure either. We always had to lay low as to not draw attention to ourselves. Growing up, I didn’t really have friends and get to experience much about the world around us. For someone who had been in so many different places, I felt so _sheltered_. I think that’s why I felt captivated by this mysterious man,” she explains.

“Did you…fall in love with him?” Fenris asks curiously, trying to push away the uncomfortable jealously he already feels growing in the pit of his stomach.

“At that time, I certainly thought so. As soon as we met, he gave special attention to me. I’m not sure why, to be honest. He always said it was because I showed him a rare kindness and took an interest in him that he wasn’t used to. I think he felt comfortable with me. Wardens don’t spend a ton of time in one place, other than their own headquarters, especially when a Blight is nearing. It’s not unheard of for them to have lovers and friends, but this proves very difficult for them to have with anyone outside of their Order.”

“Duncan came from a troubled childhood spent mostly on the streets. Because of an unfortunate circumstance, he became a Warden out of necessity rather than intentional choice,” she continues. “For whatever reason, he was able to spend a few months in Lothering and during that time we became very…close.”

Fenris felt himself cringing inside. He suspected he knew what she meant but did not wish to know more.

“I’ll spare you the details,” she says. “But he was the first man I ever felt that way about. I think my feelings were so _intensified_ because of that. I was naive and immature, hoping our relationship would turn into something more serious or permanent—which was ridiculous seeing as he was a _Grey Warden_ for Maker’s sake.”

She laughs dryly and wrings her hands together.

“He was a seasoned warrior, quite capable and accustomed to battle,” she informs. “He did not _need_ the protection of a young woman half his age. He served in an Order whose destiny is quite _literally_ to die fighting the blight. He _knew_ he was going to meet his end—he had told me as much even _before_ he left Lothering to recruit more Wardens for the Fifth Blight.”

She shakes her head. “I was in denial. He had these treacherous nightmares with intense visions of darkspawn, something Wardens only typically experience after their Joining. He had been a Warden for nearly two decades at that point. He said it was a sign of the taint claiming him—that if he didn’t die fighting against the Fifth Blight, it was only a matter of time anyway.”

“It sounds like this man knew his life was almost over before he even met you,” Fenris observes.

“Exactly,” she nods. “I didn’t want to accept it, but the truth was always right there in front of me. Maybe he really did love me in some twisted way, but more realistically I think he was trying to come to terms with his fate. He sought comfort and intimacy with _me_ so he could feel alive one last time before heading off to meet his maker. He may not have meant to, but…I think he used me. I didn’t see it for what it was at the time, but now it’s a lot more clear…”

“I’m sorry,” Fenris offers, unsure of what to say. He can tell she still feels hurt over this man. “You deserve to be desired for who you are, not solely for what you can offer.”

“I suppose you’re right,” she sighs, giving him a slight smile. “Even still, it’s not always easy to accept the truth.”

Fenris nods, looking down at his feet. He knows all too well how hard it can be to face reality.

After a long moment of silence, Hawke speaks again. “He died—Duncan, that is. At Ostagar. I didn’t see it happen, never even saw his body. The amount of people that died at that battle was staggering. The Blight was insurmountable—at least at Ostagar anyway. Thank the Maker for the Hero of Ferelden and her companions. Duncan was the one who recruited her. I take some comfort in knowing he played that role in ending the Blight. I just wish he could have been there to see it.”

“You must miss him,” Fenris remarks.

“You know…I’m not sure that I do,” she muses. “It’s complicated. _I_ am complicated.” She lets out a small laugh. “I had no future with him, even if he _had_ made it longer. Of course I wish he could have survived, but maybe even more so I wish that I had never met him. Everything I felt afterward— the pain of losing him and later realizing that it wasn’t actually love…it’s just not worth the hurt.”

“I…I’m not sure what to say. I don’t know what that’s like,” Fenris begins. “But thank you, thank you for sharing this with me. I’m sure it’s not easy to talk about and you definitely didn’t have to.”

“You’re a good listener,” she grins. “Not many people know about any of this. Bethany did, she was always someone I could confide in. Varric—naturally. And now you.”

“I am honored to be one of the few,” Fenris states seriously. 

Hawke frowns. “Goodness, I just went on and on about my problems to you for Maker knows how long and here you are having found no sleep, plagued by your own trauma and restless mind…” She shakes her head and curses under her breath. “Fenris, I’m so fucking sorry. I didn’t intend to make this all about me.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, truly. I want to know more about you, Natasha—as much as you’re willing to share,” he says earnestly. “Besides, listening to your story helped take my mind off my own dilemmas.”

“You’re a very selfless man, Fenris,” Hawke states. 

“I don’t know if I would say that,” he chuckles. “But I appreciate the compliment.”

She smiles and touches his hand affectionately. 

“You should get some rest, Natasha,” he says. “We’ve have a long journey ahead of us.”

“You’re right,” she sighs, standing up. “I will try, anyway. Hopefully I have more luck than you did. Thank you, Fenris—for listening. I feel a tad lighter now.”

“Anytime, Natasha. I mean it,” he says.

“Goodnight, Fenris,” she smiles, then much to his surprise, she leans over and gives him a peck on the cheek. Before he can even react she is already crawling into their tent.

His face feels warm and he touches the spot where her lips were just seconds ago. Maybe that kiss he had been envisioning earlier in the evening was not so far way after all. He would have to see. But right now he smiles, because he feels a bit of hope melting away that sense of despair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you read all that, thank you thank you thank you! I hope you enjoyed it :) Clearly I took the liberty of deviating from cannon quite a bit in this chapter. If it didn't fit perfectly, I hope it was at least a bit interesting. If you've played Dragon Age Origins you will probably remember the Warden Commander Duncan, who recruits the Hero of Ferelden and served as a mentor to Alistair. His part in the game isn't huge, but felt important. I always thought he was pretty sexy too, so I wanted to find a small way to include him in this and came up with this idea of him meeting our girl Hawke before the events of Origins. Is it unlikely that any of this would happen? Sure. But it's my fic and I can do whatever I want! LOL.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally a new update!!! I promise I did not intend to take such a long time between chapters this time. I had written out almost half of this immediately following the last chapter, but then my university coursework really piled on and I was struggling to effectively manage my time. I apologize to any of you who have been following this story and waiting for new updates. I know how much it kills me as the reader to wait, so I hate to be the one to do that. 
> 
> Without giving too much away, just know you will finally get the type of content you have been patiently waiting for in this slow-burn--or at least the start ;) I sincerely hope you find this chapter worth the wait, because I think Fenris and Hawke did--hehe <3

For the next couple hours, Fenris replays Hawke’s story over in his head. He feels very honored and humbled that she shared something so personal with him, something she had only told two others. On the other hand, he feels anxiety and uncertainty. It was clear that Hawke was still healing from the pain she experienced due to the outcome of her previous relationship. It would have been about 2 years ago, based on the timeline she gave. He had no concept of how long it took to heal from something, to be ready to move on. If he had ever had an intimate relationship with someone before, he could not remember. He had been on the run from Danarius for a couple years already, but the remnants of his past still plagued him daily. He was uncertain that he could every truly heal from the things he endured as a slave.

Although Hawke still harbored pain over her past, he could not deny that she had made it clear to him tonight that she felt something for him. Even the way she pecked him on the cheek before heading to bed felt very sensual. He did not want to hurt her, but ignoring their feelings for one another could easily do just that. Whether he made a move, or no move at all, there was going to be a risk. He decided he preferred a risk that involved moving closer to Hawke. He had been pining after her for nearly a year and the opportunity to do something about it was finally here. He would have to be such a coward to back away now.

“Your silhouette hunched over by the fire, with the light illuminating your face _just_ enough to reveal your solemnity is incredibly fitting, Broody,” Varric chuckles, as he makes his way toward Fenris.

“Thanks for the observation, Dwarf,” Fenris says flatly.

Varric sits down next to him and smiles. “You and Hawke seemed awfully cozy tonight. Maybe I’m reading too much into things, but I’m a fairly intuitive guy.”

“Is that supposed to be a question?” Fenris rolls his eyes.

“Lighten up, Broody!” Varric laughs. “Your interest in Hawke has been pretty obvious for a long time now—though probably not to her, she tends to be blind to the way men fawn over her.”

Fenris shrugs. “Hawke is a beautiful woman. She’s passionate, courageous, and fiercely loyal to the people she cares about. What’s not to admire?”

“Exactly,” Varric grins. “So what are you going to do about it?”

“What are you insinuating?”

“Oh come on, Elf. I know you tend to overanalyze everything, retreating to isolation in your creepy old manor to mull things over with a bottle or two of wine. But at this point you should know that your care for Hawke is not unrequited,” Varric points out. “She isn’t the greatest at being honest with herself about her feelings. But from the looks of tonight, I hope you aren’t turning a blind eye to how much she is letting her guard down around you.”

“Who said that I was?”

Varric holds his hands up innocently. “No one’s saying you are. _I_ am just letting you know that if you need a good kick in your rear, I’ll be the one to give it to you. Don’t screw this up.”

Fenris laughs dryly. “Ever thought that might be _exactly_ why I’m hesitant to do anything? I don’t know anything about… _relationships_. It’s very possible that I would screw things up, whether or not I intend to.”

“Fair point, Elf. But there’s no such thing as neutral territory for you anymore, not after tonight,” Varric shakes his head. “She opened her heart up to you and if you don’t cherish that, you _will_ hurt her.”

Fenris frowns in confusion at Varric. “I don’t seem to recall you being present at our conversation. Were you eavsdropping on us?”

“Not on purpose, I promise,” Varric insists. “And I didn’t listen to your whole conversation. I overheard some things while I snuck off to take a leak.”

Fenris shoots him a glare.

“Look, I was able to surmise that Nat told you about Ostagar—about Duncan,” Varric sighs. “She doesn’t talk about that very often. It’s a pretty big deal for her to share that with you. I just want you to know.”

“I am aware,” Fenris states.

“Get some sleep, Fenris. I’ve got it from here,” Varric offers, giving him a slight smile.

“I’ll certainly try,” Fenris quips, heading toward the tent.

* * *

Fenris crawls into the tent quietly as not to disturb Hawke. She is laying on her side facing opposite of him. He pulls off his armor and sets it aside, leaving him only in his tunic and bottoms. Despite being somewhat near the fire, it is still quite frigid down in the deep roads. The stone is cold to the touch. He wraps up in a blanket and tries to get comfortable. Hawke lays very still but he can hear her soft breathing, which he finds quite peaceful. For as long as he can remember he has always slept alone. Being this close to another person, Hawke especially, is not unwelcome.

Hey lays there for a few minutes, looking up at the ceiling of the tent. He scoots a little bit closer to Hawke, not enough to touch, but enough to feel her body heat. It’s a comforting feeling and he leans in just a bit a closer.

Now he can smell her hair, which is lovelier than he even imagined. He cannot quite place the scent, but it reminds him of honey and vanilla. He fights the urge to run his fingers through her dark tresses, wanting so badly to touch her even in a small and simple way like that. After much internal debate, he gives in and carefully takes a lock into his palm. He gently runs his fingers along it, relishing in the silky smoothness of it. He decides her hair is the most wonderful thing he has ever touched and because of this, he will do so with complete reverence. He runs his fingers up to the base of her neck, slightly rubbing against her skin as he runs his fingers back through a larger section of her hair.

He is startled when he hears her let out a sound. Not quite a moan, or a grunt, perhaps a sigh? Either way, it startles him and he instantly stops what he is doing.

“Please don’t stop, it feels nice,” she says quietly.

“I…uh,” he stammers. “I didn’t realize you were still awake.”

She turns over to face him, though it’s hard to make out her face in the dark.

“Been in and out of sleep,” she says. He can make out a small smile playing on her lips.

“Are you alright?” He asks with concern.

“Better now that you’re here,” she admits a bit shyly.

He clears his throat nervously. “So, you were saying…you’d like me to continue—touching…err…your _hair_ that is.”

“You seem to enjoy my hair,” she slightly giggles. “Go ahead.”

“I do,” he says insistently. “It’s quite magnificent, really.”

She smiles and turns back over on her side, but pushes her body back against him. The feeling of their contact makes him shudder.

He gently rubs his fingers against her temples, in a sort of massage like fashion, then grasps handfuls of her hair and runs his fingers through them. He does this for several minutes, in a somewhat trance like state. He is so captivated by her beauty and cannot believe this is actually happening. How in the world could someone like Hawke allow someone like himself to come this near to her, to touch her?

Eventually he stops, and instead places a hand on the small of her back, rubbing gentle circles against her.

She lets out a contented sigh, which gives him a feeling of butterflies in his stomach.

He rubs his hand up her back farther, massaging her shoulder blades and tracing circles on her neck. It’s when he rubs his hand down her arm that one of her hands quickly grabs it, intertwining her fingers with his.

This show of affection gives him the courage to do what he does next. He presses his face against her hair, near the back of her head, taking in the scent of her followed with a contented exhale. He then moves over to her ear, gently pressing his lips against her lobe, which appears to send shivers down her spine—in a good way.

“Is this okay?” He whispers, mouth against her ear.

She flips over and looks back at him, her face barely inches from his. She looks at him for a moment, a small smirk forming, and bites her bottom lip in an incredibly enticing way. He feels himself hardening fast.

“Do you want me, Fenris?” She asks.

“Very much so,” he nods insistently. _Maker, she is so sexy._

And just like that, his mouth is on hers, lips crushing against hers with great urgency. He had thought if he ever would work up the courage to kiss her, it would be gentle and with hesitance—perhaps a slight peck on the lips with hopes of it turning into more. But this was not that kind of kiss. There was nothing gentle, nothing _hesitant_ about the way his mouth was imploring hers. This kiss was one built up by many other moments of desiring to do this, restless nights where images of her flashed in his mind, filling him with burning passion and a desperate yearn to have her in his bed. He had wanted to do this for months and now he finally knew the warm sensation of her lips against his. It did not disappoint.

He flips her onto her back and presses his body against hers, pressing his hands on each side of her face. He pulls back for one moment, looking into her eyes while they both catch their breath.

“Natasha. I want…”

“I know,” she interrupts, pulling his face back against hers and kissing him deeply. Her tongue gently explores his mouth, swirling along his.

He didn’t think it was possible for him to become anymore aroused than he already was, but after she did that he felt harder than stone.

Speaking of which.

Hawke grinds her hips against his lower region and he lets out a moan. He begins kissing along her neck, gently—and not so gently—sucking and nibbling. This seems to drive her crazy, and her grinding against him becomes quicker and more intense. He kisses her lips again and lets out a low chuckle as he does, enjoying her response to him.

The taste of her lips—her mouth—is unlike anything he could describe, but it feels like home. As he kisses her more deeply and grinds against her, he finds himself wondering what she tastes like in another place. He would love nothing more than to have her splayed before him, his face between her legs with them wrapped around his head. The thought of this nearly makes him finish and he has to distract himself to keep up their momentum.

After a few more moments of kissing, Hawke gently nudges him with her knee. “Move onto your back,” she whispers.

He will do anything she asks.

Once he is laying down, she straddles him and pulls off her tunic. It’s very dark and hard to make out much of her figure but he is pretty sure that her torso is now exposed. This makes him shiver.

She grinds herself slowly on top of him, then grabs his hands and leads them to her chest, inviting him to touch her.

Her breasts are both soft and firm. They are _just_ big enough to spill out of his hands as he cups them in his palms. He gently caresses his fingers against them, circling around her nipples. She lets out a contended sigh as he does, so he continues.

“You are magnificent,” he breathes, gently pinching her nipples and thrusting up against her.

“I’m glad you think so,” she chuckles, arching her back as she moves against him.

If they keep moving like this he is going to explode. He sits up so that their faces are inches from each other, her legs still wrapped around him.

He cups her face in his hands and leans in closely, gently but sensually kissing her lips. After a moment he leans his forehead against hers and takes in a deep breath, enjoying the scent of her.

They stay like this for a moment and then she pulls back, looking him in the eye. “Something is wrong, you don’t want this,” she states.

“No!” He interjects quickly and a bit loudly. “I _do._ Natasha, you have no idea just how much I want this—how much I want _you_. I have wanted you for longer than I can bravely admit,” he confesses.

She chuckles, folding her arms across her chest and smirks at him, narrowing her eyes a bit as she waits for him to continue.

He places his hands on her lower back and shifts a bit, still very much aware of her sitting right against his stiff cock. “I…I don’t take this lightly. My memories of the past are foggy and though I sense I’ve done…um, _you know_ , before…it’s just—it has been a long time if that’s the case and I…don’t want to rush into it.”

She nods with a slight smile of understanding. “Are you… _nervous_?” She asks curiously.

“Maybe…I’m not sure. I mean, I was definitely nervous to make any move like this toward you for a very long time— _obviously,_ ” he lets out a slight laugh. “But now that I have, I don’t know if I could say that’s it. Being with you like this feels… _right_. You mean a lot to me and I want whatever we end up sharing together to be special.”

She raises her eyebrows at that. “Planning to court me, are you? Are you going to take me on a romantic stroll through the garden, then have us wine and dine by candlelight?”

He chuckles, brushing some of her hair behind her ear. “Something like that,” he smirks.

She stares at him for a moment then lets out a breath, laughing softly. “Well, it _was_ about time you kissed me, Fenris. Maker knows how long I’ve been waiting for you to do that.”

He is genuinely surprised to hear her say this. “You have?”

“You truly must be quite _aloof_ ,” she giggles, sliding off of him and searching around for her tunic. It’s very dark in the tent and not easy to see anything. Although he was the one who put the brakes on their moment of passion, he feels a pang of disappointment at the thought of Hawke covering up her beautiful breasts. Even if nothing happened tonight, the thought of her laying next to him like that—close to naked— causes him to feel warm tingles throughout his whole body.

“I just…I don’t know. I never would have thought you’d want that from someone like _me_ ,” he admits, laying back down. “You have so many better choices—and you deserve the best, Natasha.”

She locates her tunic and pulls it back over her head. “I’m not exactly sure which choices you are referring to, but even so, it doesn’t matter to me,” she shakes her head, then lies down next to him. “No one else looks at me the way that you do. With you I feel…” she lets out a deep breath, seeming to collect her thoughts. “You understand me, make me feel safe to be completely myself. Very seldom do I get the opportunity to let my guard down and just be. When I’m with _you,_ I don’t feel any expectations put on me. It’s as if you just like me for _me_ , not who I am to others or what I can do for you.”

He feels a warmth build up in his chest and he musters the courage to find her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers. She gives his hand a tight squeeze.

“I…I’m glad you feel that way with me. Still—it’s hard for me to accept the idea that I have anything to offer you that you can’t find somewhere else—from someone _better_ ,” he stammers. “Surely when you’re with Varric you are able to be yourself and feel known. Anyone can see so, Hawke. Sometimes I even envy that,” he confesses.

“ _Fenris_ ,” she begins, somewhat disapprovingly. “I’m telling you that how I feel with _you_ is different than it is for me with anyone else— _even_ Varric. He is my best friend and yes—I can share almost anything with him. _Almost_ anything,” she squeezes his hand again, as if to make her point. “But you see me in a way he does not and…Ididn’t realize how much I needed that until you did.”

“You humble me, Natasha,” he replies. “I know I am not deserving, but I will gladly be whatever you need me to be.”

“All I need is for you to be yourself,” she whispers, centimeters away from his ear. It gives him goosebumps in an enticing way. As if she read his mind, she begins gently stroking her finger along the outside of his ear. The sensation is rather pleasurable and he sucks in a few deep breaths.

“I will try to internalize what you’ve told me,” he finally says. “I trust you.”

“Good,” she replies, and although he cannot tell, it sounds like she is smiling. Then, without warning her lips brush up against his ear. “Because you know something, Fenris?” She asks with a whisper, sending chills all along his senses.

“What’s that?” He barely manages to ask.

“When I close my eyes at night and picture being naked with a man, my body pressed against his as he moves inside of me— _you_ are that man, Fenris.”

_Oh Maker. It’s absolute torture to be next to her like this without flipping her onto her back and taking her right in this instant. The things she says to him…_

He swallows, trying to maintain his composure. “You are making it extremely hard to be patient, right now,” he states quietly, biting his lip.

She giggles, giving his earlobe a slight pinch. “It was just something you should know,” she informs, most certainly with a huge smirk on her face.

“Well— _you_ should know that come the day I have you naked and in my bed, I will use my mouth my first,” he says flatly, with just the slightest hint of amusement in his voice.

She lets out a deep breath. “ _Fenris_ , never in a million years would I have taken you for such a tease,” she yells in a whisper.

“Who said I was teasing?” He asks flatly.

She lets out a slight gasp.

“Goodnight, Hawke,” he says with a slight chuckle, turning over on his side.

“Like I’m going to get any sleep after all that,” she quips, turning onto her side. He can tell she is amused.

It won’t be easy for him to find sleep tonight either, not after all that excitement. Just when his cock was almost back to normal, something she did or said had brought him back to complete stiffness. He would be tired tomorrow, but what took place tonight in this tent was well worth any amount of exhaustion that would befall him.

And just as sleep was finally about to take him over, he felt a warm leg brush against his that reminded him he was no longer alone. For the first time since he could remember, he felt hope for his future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've made it this far, thank you so much reading! I cannot tell you enough how much your Kudos and Comments mean to me. I have been reading and enjoying fanfiction for years and it's so exciting to finally be writing my own. I have had so many story ideas about these characters for a long time and it's very fulfilling to finally sit down and put it into writing. I hope you had at least half as much fun reading this chapter as I did writing it. I intend to get my next chapter out much quicker this time. With schoolwork it's hard to update weekly, but I am going to try my best to get updates out more timely. I truly do enjoy writing this story. It's a great escape from the more mundane aspects of life.
> 
> Please let me know what you thought! I appreciate any feedback :)


End file.
